


Still Raining

by chochowilliams



Series: I Want Us To Be A Family [3]
Category: Gravitation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Christianity Extremism, Family, Fantasy, Hermaphrodites, Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Romance, Slash, bashing, m-preg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 113,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chochowilliams/pseuds/chochowilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was one woman at the press conference that refused to leave well enough alone.  Two years later, she’s back and causing trouble.  She’s determined to prove that Aizawa isn’t the biological father of little Takanori.  What if she’s right? And just what secret is Ryuichi hiding from Shuichi?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Challenge

**Still Raining**  
 **Sequel to** : Street of Dreams  
 **I Want Us To Be A Family Series**  
 **Written by:** chochowilliams  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Gravitation or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.  
 **Summary:** There was one woman at the press conference that refused to leave well enough alone. Two years later, she’s back and causing trouble. She’s determined to prove that Aizawa isn’t the biological father of little Takanori. What if she’s right?  
 **Warning:** AU, Angst, Drama, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fantasy, M-Preg, Language, M/M, Hentai, OCs, OOC, Hermaphrodites (referred to as “Neutrals”), Christian Extremist POV, Bashing  
 **Pairings:** Shuichi/Eiri, Ryuichi/Tatsuha, one-sided Eiri/Ayaka, Mentioned: Shuichi/Taki, Shuichi/OMC, past-Ryuichi/Yuki  
 **Inserts:**  “Still Rainin’, by Jonny Lang, Wander This World  
 **A/N:** Originally, there were 28 chapters including the epilogue, but this story has since been edited and condensed into 10 chapters. This is the final installment in the “I Want Us To Be A Family” series that includes:  Street of Dreams, “The Boy Named Sara: Rise of the Neutral” & Still Raining. Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

_LOOK OUT MY WINDOW_   
_IT’S STILL RAININ’_   
_LOOK OUT MY WINDOW_   
_IT’S STILL RAININ’_   
_THEY SAY TIME HEALS EVERYTHING_   
_I’VE FELT THE PAIN THAT LOVE CAN BRING_   
_IT DON’T GET NO BETTER WITH EACH PASSING DAY_   
_ANY HOPE I HAD IS SLOWLY SLIPPING AWAY_

**-“Still Rainin’, by Jonny Lang, Wander This World**

 

 

* * *

 

**Chapter 1: A Challenge**

**One Year Later – May – Sakuma- Uesugi Residence - Tokyo, Japan**

A sound curse flowed passed Tatsuha Uesugi’s lips as he took in the headline. Yanking the cigarette from his mouth, he crushed it in the ashtray besides its brethren and with the tabloid magazine in his hand, marched through the apartment in search of his long time partner. He found him sitting on the floor of the master bedroom’s walk-in closet with a shoebox in his lap.

With a heavy sigh, Tatsuha crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. The paper crinkled as it was crushed under his armpit. “Ryu,” he called softly.

With a sniffle, Ryuichi lifted a photograph out of the shoebox. He ran the fingers of his free hand over the image and gave a watery smile. “My baby has a baby,” he whispered softly through his tears as if he did not hear the other man.

Tatsuha rolled his eyes with another heavy sigh. Here we go again, he thought.

Ryuichi laughed softly. “Can you imagine? Me? A grandfather at my age?”

“Like father. Like son,” Tatsuha supposed.

Ryuichi laughed at that.

Pushing away from the door, Tatsuha tossed the paper over his shoulder onto the bed and stepped into the closet where he crouched down besides Ryuichi. Draping an arm around his older lover’s shoulders, Tatsuha planted a kiss on the side of Ryuichi’s head. Ryuichi’s brown tresses were soft to the touch. Then resting his head against Ryuichi’s, Tatsuha glanced down at the photograph Ryuichi held in his hand. It was a photograph of a very young looking Ryuichi who had a large, stupid looking grin plastered on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks as he held a small screaming bundle wrapped in a yellow blanket. “How old were you?” Tatsuha asked softly.

“I turned fourteen fifteen days before Shuichi was born.”

Tatsuha was silent. He could not imagine what it must have been like for his husband. To have it all and then be threatened with losing it all in the very same day. He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up, for even now, eighteen years after it happened, it was still a very sore subject, but not without reason, given the turn of events that followed. “Whatever happened to--what’s his name? Yuki? Is he still in that loony bin?”

“…Yeah…”

O-kay, Tatsuha thought. “Have you talked to him since...?”

Without having to ask, Ryuichi knew exactly to what Tatsuha was referring. Ryuichi shook his head as a sharp pain ripped through his heart as he remembered the awful events of that day. Of what could have happened. He traced the image of his infant son in the photograph with a nostalgic smile on his face.

Tatsuha wrapped both arms around Ryuichi. “You haven’t seen him once after that?”

“…No…”

“Not even when he gave birth to Shuichi?”

Ryuichi shook his head.

“So, the only contact you had with him was through--what? Your manager or something?”

“And our lawyers.”

Tatsuha nodded. “You think he knows about little Takanori and the new baby?”

Ryuichi shrugged.

“You going to tell him?”

Ryuichi shook his head. “No.”

“But he’s his-!”

“I know.”

Tatsuha sighed.

“He gave up his rights--to our son--when he…” Ryuichi’s throat closed over. “When he tried to…”

Tatsuha gently squeezed Ryuichi in an attempt to reassure him.

Ryuichi took a ragged breath to try to relieve the tightness in his chest and blinked away his tears. He had mixed feelings over that period in his life. Part of him was glad he had that affair with Yuki because it ended up with them creating his precious baby boy, but at the same time, if Ryuichi had not had that one night with Yuki after the concert at Zepp Tokyo where Nittle Grasper had opened up for some band that has long since disappeared into obscurity, Yuki would not have jumped to the conclusion that Ryuichi’s feelings ran deeper than they actually did. Ryuichi would not have had to reject him, which in turn caused Yuki to become an obsessed, overzealous fan who stalked him constantly for the next six months when he tried to blackmail Ryuichi into going out with him.

_“Love me! Ryu! Love me!”_

Ryuichi tried to shake aside the memories that threatened to pour forth, but like a failed dam, the memories gushed forth unbidden.

He remembered being in the studio with Tohma and Noriko working on their follow up album when there was a sudden commotion out in the hall. Tohma had popped his head out and asked the first person he saw, some sound technician, what was going on.

_“There’s someone on the roof threatening to jump!”_

Ryuichi could not explain it. He couldn’t then and he still couldn’t, but his blood had suddenly turned to ice. He knew. He knew beyond any shadow of a doubt. Neither Tohma nor Noriko had known about his little tryst with Yuki before that day. But after everything was said and done, most of the people who were at L8r Records that day, knew the whole sorted history between Yuki and him.

He raced blindly up to the roof with his heart pounding so hard it was just this side of exploding. He may not have been in love with Yuki, but he had cared about him a great deal. Besides, he could not stop blaming himself. The guilt started to eat at him at the thought that it would be all his fault if Yuki jumped. If Yuki killed himself, then it would be his entire fault. He could have done something to prevent it, but hadn’t.

Through the heavy steel door, he burst. Charging through the blustery January winter wind that was whipping around like ice pellets and pushing his way through the crowd of people who were gawking at the spectacle instead of doing something useful. Panting heavily, that was when he saw him. Balancing on the lip of the building that could not have been more than six inches wide at most was Yuki--a very pregnant looking Yuki.

At thirty weeks, Yuki was threatening to jump and kill not only himself but also the baby he was carrying if Ryuichi did not say that they could be together as a family.

“Are you going to tell him the truth?”

The sound of his lover’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

Ryuichi was blessed to have a man like Tatsuha by his side. They met soon after Tohma started dating Mika and even though Tatsuha had been nothing more than a child at the time, it had been love at first sight for Ryuichi. Over the years, as he watched Tatsuha grow up, his feelings had only intensified. Then finally, one day it happened. It was a party for Tatsuha’s sixteenth birthday party. He managed to get him alone and kissed him. The rest, as they say, is history, despite the eight-year difference.

But it had been only a few years ago when L8r Records was dissolved that Ryuichi had been allowed to finally confess his darkest secret to his lover. That Shuichi Shindou had actually been born Shuichi Sakuma. That whom Tatsuha had been led to believe was his husband’s baby brother was in reality his baby boy, his son. There had been many tears and a lot yelling and screaming. Ryuichi had even sported quite a nice shiner for the next few weeks. But in the end, Tatsuha had forgiven him for lying to him and accepted the child that had been born of Ryuichi’s illicit relationship with Yuki. Though it was still a touchy subject.

Unfortunately, he was the only one who had. And Yuki was not the only one who had been forced into signing away his parental rights, but Ryuichi had them back now and he promised to make up for all the lost time.

Pushing away from his younger lover, Ryuichi put the photograph back into the shoebox before putting the lid back on.

“It’s not like there’s anything keeping you from telling him,” Tatsuha pushed into the silence. “Not anymore. Not like there was.”

Pushing to his feet, Ryuichi shook his head and crossed the closet where he slid the shoebox onto the top shelf. He shuffled some things around and when he stepped back, the shoebox was gone. “So,” he said, turning around to face Tatsuha, “what’s up?”

Tatsuha studied Ryuichi a few moments longer before walking out of the closet and picking up the magazine from the bed. “Here,” he said, handing it to Ryuichi, “take a look.”

Throwing Tatsuha a questioning glance, Ryuichi took the proffered paper. His eyes became bigger and bigger as he read the article. Very quickly, his shock gave way to anger. His hands began shaking. The paper crinkled in his hands. “That bitch,” he hissed. “She just can’t leave well enough alone, can she?” With the paper crushed in his hand, the older singer pushed passed Tatsuha, strode purposefully across the bedroom, and vanished out into the hallway.

Tatsuha scratched his head with a sigh. That woman sure had a death wish.

But…

He wished Ryuichi would sit Shuichi down and tell him the truth about his parentage. “Before he finds out some other way,” he muttered aloud.

 

* * *

 

**NG Productions Executive Offices**

The intercom buzzed. Without taking his eyes from the latest sales figures, Tohma reached for his phone blindly. “Yes?”

“Sir,” his secretary said, “Mr. Sakuma’s on the phone for you.”

Tohma sighed mentally. He saw this coming a mile away. Setting the document aside, he told the woman he would take it. “Hello Ryu…Yes, I did se…Ry…Yes, Ryu…” Tohma fought the urge to sigh again. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to his old friend’s angry tirade.

Nami Mataguchi. Owner, founder, president, CEO and editor-in-chief of The Trinity and the main instigator in the rising opposition against the parentage of one Takanori Uesugi. Damn bitch has been nothing but a thorn in their sides ever since the press conference over a year ago.

_“Do you really think that them not having a sexual relationship makes it alright for them to be involved? Mr. Shindou is still a minor.”_

_“Shuichi is sixteen. He will become of age in April and then it will no longer be an issue. Eiri, though we tend to forget, is only twenty-two. Besides, we all grew up together and Shuichi's guardians know and trust Eiri and have supported and allowed their courtship. They have set strict rules and guidelines,” Tohma added. “They even granted Eiri permission to marry Shuichi.”_

_“Shindou's family my approve of their relationship, Mr. Seguchi, and you may trust Mr. Eiri with him, but in the end it all comes down to Mr. Shindou being only sixteen years old.”_

The Trinity was a Christian extremist magazine. Meaning, she was one of those people who believed that allowing homosexuals to marry would inevitably lead to people having sex with animals and that homosexuals were possessed by Satan and needed to be cleansed by God or that the Harry Potter novels promoted witchcraft. These were just a few of their deluded beliefs. There were few, if any, people in Japan, who actually gave the crazed woman the time of day, but unfortunately, the crap she has been spewing was being picked up by reputable media sources and people were beginning to talk.

When it first broke, it was a huge scandal. That Eiri Yuki, self-proclaimed bachelor and ladies man, was engaged to and having a child with an under aged male Neutral. Some of the reporters called Eiri “a pervert and child molester” during the press conference. The situation had quickly spiraled out of control, but Tohma stepped in and took control of things. He claimed that Eiri and Shuichi did not have a sexual relationship. Because Shuichi was clearly pregnant, nobody bought his lie. But he explained the biological father of Shuichi's unborn child was Taki Aizawa, Shuichi's ex-boyfriend, who recently passed away in a car accident. Shuichi started dating Eiri before he realized he was pregnant. It was not really a lie, but neither had it been the exact truth either, but given the alternative, there had been no other option. Naturally, Nami Mataguchi bought not one ounce of that can of bullshit. He vowed then and there to keep an eye on her. After little Takanori was born, she thankfully quieted down. They all believed that was the end of that, but here it was one year later and all that talk about Shuichi and Eiri “not having a sexual relationship” was beginning to backfire because people were starting to realize that little Takanori looked nothing like his “supposed biological father”, one Taki Aizawa.

“Dammit Shuichi,” Tohma said as his best friend continued to rant and rave his ear off, “what the hell have you done?”

But of course, she refused to stop there. She has also begun hinting at other--details of Shuichi’s life that did not seem to jib--at least to her--but then again, what didn’t? One incident in particular he remembered clearly. Of course, Ms. Mataguchi refused to come right out and say it, but she insinuated that Ryuichi and Shuichi’s relationship was not what it appeared to be. She stated that it was clear what the truth was after she called in a few favors.

_“Not what it appears to be? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”_ he remembered Shuichi asking him.

He sighed. This whole thing has gotten way out of hand. “Look Ryu, I…”

“There’s got to be something we can do, Tohma! This has to stop!”

“There’s not much I can do, Ryu. You know as well I do that every time we fire back at that ‘crazy bitch’ she uses it against us. It’s a never-ending cycle.”

“…Then what can we do?”

“I’m not sure, Ryu, but I’m beginning to think that maybe we should just…”

“What?”

“-amuse her.”

“We can’t do that!”

Tohma sighed. “If Shuichi is right about little Takanori being Mr. Aizawa’s son, then, as much as I hate to admit it, Ms. Mataguchi is right. He shouldn’t have any problem submitting to a DNA paternity test.”

“But Tohma-!”

“At least then, maybe we can finally get her out of our hair once and for all.”

“…Yeah--But I--I’m not--Are you sure?”

“What other choice do we have?”

“Yeah, but Tohma…”

Tohma sighed. “I know, Ryu. I know.” If you give in to a terrorist just once, then what was there to stop that terrorist, or others, from demanding more?

 

* * *

 

**Shindou-Uesugi Household**

The noise was deafening.

Eiri had a splitting headache. Planting his elbows on the lip of his desk, Eiri ground his middle fingers into his temples.

Sitting on the floor besides him, little Takanori was playing drums with several pots and pans he managed to drag out of the kitchen and was using a couple of wooden spoons he managed to find, who knows where, as drumsticks while doing, what only Shuichi would call, “singing”. God, this kid was really his mother’s son.

Lifting his head, he gazed down at the fifteen month old. He loved his son. There was no doubt about it. He had no regrets concerning his choice to adopt him, but right about now, he regretted having agreed to take him for the week. Takanori was this close to sending him over the edge. Thank God, it was Sunday. Shuichi should be coming by any time now to pick up their son.

A sudden shrill ringing startled him out of his musings. Please let that be him now, Eiri pleaded as he reached across his desk for the phone. “Shu?”

“…Eiri?”

Eiri cursed. “Tohma.”

There was a moment of pause. Then, “…What is that?”

“Your nephew.”

“Aah!”

“Apparently, Shuichi took him to band practice with him one day and Takanori fell in love with his new drummer’s drum set.”

“I see,” Tohma chuckled.

Eiri sighed heavily.

“How is Shuichi anyway?”

Eiri shrugged. “Fine. I suppose. You would know better than I would.”

Tohma sighed over the line. “…You really should try to work things out with him, Eiri.”

“There’s nothing to work out,” Eiri snapped. They actually went out to the movies on Friday night. It was the first time they did anything together, other than going to Shuichi’s OB/GYN, since Shuichi moved out. Eiri was hoping it was a good sign. He could not stand being in this house without his pink haired baka.

“Eiri…”

“Was there a reason for this phone call?”

“Actually-”

Eiri started to growl as his son’s drumming continued unrelentingly. “Knock it off,” he barked as his patience, which had been holding on by a tiny thread, snapped. Even as he watched, Takanori’s wide hazel eyes golden like the sun filled with tears. “Shit,” Eiri cursed softly as his son’s loud wails filled the sudden silence that had descended upon the apartment after Takanori’s drum solo was silenced prematurely. He did not need this right now. Pushing away from his desk, he stood up and put the phone on speaker so that he could speak with his brother-in-law and deal with his son. Multi-tasking at its finest.

“Need some help, Eiri?”

“No,” Eiri bit as he lifted his son into his arms with a grunt. Man the kid was heavy. What in the worlds did Shuichi feed him? Eiri made cooing, shushing noises as he searched for the boy’s pacifier. He ignored the soft chuckles emanating over the line.

“If only your fans could see you now.”

Eiri snorted. He finally found Takanori’s binki hidden beneath one of the bigger pots. As soon as it passed the boy’s lips, his screeches (that was the only to describe them) were immediately silenced. Now that he was partially deaf, Eiri made his way back to his desk chair as he fended off his son’s roaming hands. The kid loved to play with his daddy’s glasses and his earring. Eiri sighed heavily as he sat down gratefully into his leather recliner desk chair. He had to switch his son from his hip to his lap in the process. “So, what is it that you wanted?” He pushed his laptop away from his son who apparently wanted to break the keyboard. Immediately, Takanori whined in protest. “Other than to annoy the hell out of me?” When Takanori began wiggling, Eiri placed him on the floor.

“Oh, come now, Eiri.”

Eiri rolled his eyes. He could just imagine the pout on his brother-in-law’s face.

“Can’t I just call to say ‘hi’?”

Eiri snorted. He watched as his son made his way across the room to the bookcase and began pulling book after book out and tossing them onto the floor. Thank God, the books on the lower shelves were his son’s.

“Fine. Fine! After all I’ve done for you…”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Alright. Alright!”

Having apparently found the book he was searching for, Takanori sat amidst the mess he made and pulled the book onto his lap. His binki was gone, Eiri noticed. Takanori fingered the pages and reciting aloud from said pages as if he were reading. Eiri chuckled at the sight.

“Have you watched the news or read the paper this morning?”

That was a stupid question. “Of course not. You know I don’t watch that crap.”

“Well…”

Eiri grew curious. “Well what?”

“Ms. Mataguchi is at it again.”

Eiri heaved a disgusted sigh. “What the hell do I care?”

“Eiri, she’s using the fact that you and Shuichi--separated.”

Of course she was. Bitch.

Takanori finished the book he was reading and went in search of another one. Eiri silently cursed. That was the one thing he did not like about having children. They left a heap of destruction in their wakes. Walking disaster areas. He really needed to teach his son to clean up after himself. At one year old, Noriko’s daughter could put her toys away after she was done with them. So, he knew it could be done.

“Look, people were speculating that the reason why you two ‘broke up’ was because he cheated on you. Right?”

Eiri felt his anger swelling up within him. Why they took delight in spreading crap around like that was beyond him. These tabloid reporters and various media for the more “legitimate” entertainment news were the reason why couples, who--if they were normal, average people like the rest of society--would have stayed together for possibly the rest of their lives, broke up. Controversy was their first, middle and last names. Sometimes, despite how two people felt about each other, all the press and tabloid fodder that encircled the couple became too much. It has happened on more than one occasion. The press feeds a bunch of bull about a certain celebrity couple just to stir things up and see how far they can push things and then when the couple breaks up, they all wonder, “what happened?” Gee, I wonder.

It appeared that Takanori was finished reading. He walked back to his drum set and picked up his drumsticks. Dear God, Eiri thought as the noise level rose to deafening heights once again.

“There was also that rumor that he was pregnant again.” Tohma had raised his voice over the rising noise level.

The sound of Tohma’s voice snapped Eiri out of his thoughts.

That was right. Around the same time Shuichi and he decided to take a little hiatus, rumors began to circulate that the reason was because of infidelity and they all pointed the finger at Shuichi because he was spotted going into the pharmacy and buying an over the counter pregnancy test. That it was for his little sister Maiko didn’t stop the rumors from spreading. At this point Shuichi didn’t even know or suspect that he was pregnant yet. That discovery was made a few weeks later.

“What the hell does this have to do that bitch?”

“Well, basically, she’s claiming that it’s ‘convenient’ that when Shuichi discovered he was pregnant, you dumped him and yet both claim neither of you cheated on the other.”

That was not exactly how it happened, but he let it slide. Bitch likes to put together the puzzle her way and not the way it was supposed to be. “There wasn’t any.”

“I know that, but you have to admit that if you look at it from her point of view, she has a point.”

“…And?”

“Eiri?”

“This isn’t any different from every other tabloid, but this time she’s about three months behind.”

“True, but she uses the infidelity angle as a launching point.”

“For what?”

“Well, she goes on to say that this’s like history repeating itself.”

“Huh?”

“Eiri, you guys split up and claim that the child Shuichi’s carrying is indeed yours. It’s the same thing that happened before with little Takanori. Shuichi claims Taki Aizawa is his biological father, right? And yet the two of them broke up.”

Eiri sighed. Why Nami Mataguchi just could not let sleeping dogs lie was beyond him. “So, she still claims that she doesn’t believe that Takanori is Aizawa’s son?”

“Yes.”

“So what?” Eiri was fed up with dealing with her.

“Eiri, she issued a challenge.”

That captured Eiri’s immediate attention. “What sort of challenge?”

“She’s saying that if little Takanori is indeed Taki Aizawa’s son, then there shouldn’t be any problem with proving it.”

Eiri cocked an eyebrow at that. “You mean like a paternity test?”

“Exactly.”

“Ya know…” Eiri sighed. “Why does she care so much?” This woman needs to get a life.

“Because Eiri.”

Exasperated, Eiri snapped, “Because why?”

“Because little Takanori looks nothing like Aizawa.”

_“Hey,” Shuichi said late one night as he and his fiancé lay in bed. “Eiri?”_

_“Hm,” Eiri asked distracted. He was in the middle of reading a new release from one of his favorite authors._

_“Is it alright?”_

_Eiri's brow scrunched in confusion. Marking his place, he closed his book and set it on his chest. Sliding off his glasses, he set them on top of his book. He turned to look at Shuichi. The kid was propped up by a mound of pillows and looking at the newest sonogram of the baby. Or so the doctor said. He could see nothing but a bunch of black and white swirls. “What?”_

_“Seeing you're going to be adopting the baby, I was thinking I could, ya know, uhm…”_

_Eiri sighed. “You want to name the baby after Aizawa.”_

_Shuichi bit his lip and nodded, turning to look at Eiri with those large purple puppy dog eyes of his._

_Eiri groaned inwardly. Dammit, he thought. He hated it when Shuichi did that! It was totally impossible to resist. However, as he thought about it, it did not seem like a bad idea. From what he was able to learn about the guy, Aizawa had actually been trying to stop Shuichi from having that abortion when he drove past that day. Therefore, it was very possible that the guy would have made a major transformation knowing that he was going to be a father. Eiri moved his book and glasses to the bedside table and turned over on his side to face Shuichi. He laid a hand on the kids swelling stomach and rubbed small circles on his belly. “Okay,” Eiri sighed._

_Shuichi smiled wildly, showing brilliantly white teeth. “Really? Thank you, Eiri! I love you!”_

_“Yeah, well, just make sure he looks like you,” he said turning his back on the kid._

_Shuichi snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir. I'll get right on that.”_

When he made that statement, he had not actually thought it would turn out to be the truth. Little Takanori had looked so much like his mother when he was born it had been eerie. He had Shuichi’s dark complexion and raven black hair. Shuichi's round face, his big round eyes, tiny nose and big mouth, not to mention, his huge lung capacity. The only hint Eiri ever had of Taki Aizawa (or so he thought) were those dark hazel brown eyes and that had been just fine with him. But over time, Takanori’s eyes lightened into an almost golden hazel color. Shuichi’s eyes were black but had a hue to them that on most days made his eyes look more purple than black. So it was no wonder people were talking. Even though Eiri had those same golden eyes, unfortunately, he was not little Takanori’s biological father.

For what seemed like the first time, Eiri studied his son, really studied him, and came to a quick and startling realization. There were hints, little peeks here and there that were unaccounted for. Aspects that he never noticed before. The kid was not skinny like his mother, but was more on the hefty side and was taller than Shuichi was when he was his age according to Ryuichi. A little on the short side, Shuichi was barely over five feet. Takanori’s eyes were a little pinched at the corners and they had a little tilt to them that neither Shuichi nor Taki Aizawa had. It was there in the stubborn set of his chin and along his jaw line. His cheekbones.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

Takanori glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his father’s voice. A huge grin crossed his face. Dropping his makeshift drumsticks, he clumsily got to his feet and ran over to Eiri while exclaiming something or other, which Eiri could not decipher. He heard “dada” and maybe “bye-bye”, but wasn’t sure. Shuichi would have been able to understand what their son was saying. Eiri lifted the boy into his arms and tossed him into the air over his head. Takanori squealed with laughter.

As Eiri looked at his son, he saw someone else looking back and it wasn’t Taki Aizawa as he was previously led to believe.

 

* * *

 

**Across Town – La Noix de Coco Café**

Shuichi placed his elbows on the edge of the table and leaned his chin on his linked hands. He turned to stare out the window of the small internet café located across the street from NG Productions’ new Tokyo headquarters and sighed. Before him lay The Trinity opened to Nami Mataguchi’s editorial, which was once again bashing him and his family. Not too long ago, she made some hints about Ryuichi and he looking too much alike to be only brothers. What was it about this crazy bitch and appearances? God! Why did she feel the need to interfere? If it was not one thing then it was another.

A buzzing sound caught his attention.

Shuichi’s glance shifted from the view of the massive glass structure that housed his record company to his sleek black blackberry that was dancing across the table. The screen was lit up. He really was not in any mood, but he caught his cellphone before it danced off the table. A quick check of the LCD screen had him sighing. For some reason, Shuichi had a feeling this was not going to be an inquiry into when he planned on picking up Takanori. “Yes, Eiri,” he breathed.

“We have a problem,” Eiri said, cutting right to the chase.

“I know,” Shuichi sighed. Why did he have to be right?

“Then you saw the article.”

“Yes,” he answered exasperated.

“…So?”

“So what?”

“So, what are we gonna do?!”

“About what?”

Eiri sighed. He sounded annoyed. “About that crazy bitch?” he snapped.

“Nothing.”

“What!? What do you mean nothing?!”

“Just that. Nothing.”

“Shuichi…!”

“Eiri.”

“Goddamnit Shuichi! She’s out to ruin you, you know that!”

Shuichi shrugged. It seems his nonchalant, laid-back attitude was annoying Eiri even more so than his noncompliance to Nami Mataguchi’s challenge. “She can try all she wants. I frankly don’t care. She can try to pick as many fights as she wants. Not my problem if she wants to come off looking like a five year old.”

“Shuichi…” Eiri sighed over the line.

Something inside Shuichi snapped. “What?! Then what the hell do you suggest Eiri?”

“Get the paternity test done.”

Shuichi did not have to think about it. He said, “No,” immediately.

“Why the hell not?”

“I don’t have anything to prove to that bitch.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I--don’t--care. I’m not going to get a paternity test done just to prove who fathered my son. You are his father and that is all that matters.” Without waiting for a reply, Shuichi hung up. Dropping his phone back down on the table, he dropped his face in his hands. Dammit all to hell! This was so exasperating. Maybe he could hire someone to get rid of his problem. He was sure Tohma knew someone who could help. That guy had more connections than God did.

“Big brother?”

Startled, Shuichi spun around. A broad grin crossed his face. “Maiko!” He started to scoot out of the booth, but Maiko came to him. They hugged. Then Shuichi held his baby sister out as arm’s length. “Wow! Look at you!”

Maiko pouted. She glanced down at herself. “I look fat, right?”

Shuichi giggled. He knew that feeling all too well. “No, you look great. You can’t even tell you’re pregnant.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Maiko slid into the booth opposite him grinning broadly.

“So, how’ve you been?”

The smile slipped from Maiko’s face. She shrugged listlessly. Clasping her hands together on the tabletop, she stared down at her laced fingers blankly. “…Scared,” she finally answered in such a soft whisper that Shuichi almost missed it.

Shuichi nodded in understanding. He gave his little sister a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I was too.” He reached across the table and covered one of her hands with his own. “But it’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

Maiko lifted her head and tried to smile, but it ended up looking a little sickly as her fears swept over and through her. She still could not believe that she had been so stupid and allowed this to happen. Never had she thought that something like this would happen to her. That she, of all people, would be in this position. She was head of her class, got straight A’s, was on the debate team, in Honor’s Society, was Vice President of the student body, wrote for the school newspaper and was a part time member of the archery club. She had her whole future ahead of her. All of the top colleges were vying for her even though she was only a second year. But then she had to cave into peer pressure.

Tears started to trickle down her face.

She’d had a crush on the captain of the swimming team since middle school, but the guy had always been way out her league. Someone like him would never have anything to do with someone like her. So, she just settled on admiring him from afar.

Everything changed four months ago.

She was invited to a party a friend of a friend was throwing. Her secret crush was there. She had been there only an hour when he started hitting on her. It was a dream come true! This was something she has been wishing, hoping, and dreaming about for years! He asked her to dance. She agreed. Then he wanted to take her upstairs. She refused at first, but her friends egged her on. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She should take it. Did she want to spend the rest of her life wondering, “what if”? So, reluctantly, she allowed him to steer her upstairs.

“Oh, Maiko.”

“It was only one time,” Maiko sobbed. “One time!”

“That’s all it takes,” Shuichi whispered.

“God!” She buried her face in her hands. “How could I have been so stupid?”

She woke a little while later groggy and alone. That was when it set in. What she just did. What she just allowed to happen. She started to cry. Over her tears, she heard voices in the hall right outside the bedroom. It was him. Silently, she crept towards the door. And that was when she learned the awful truth. She had been used.

Shuichi felt helpless as he watched his sister sobbing. He bit his lip and searched his mind for a way to cheer her up. “Hey! Want me to go beat that asshole up?”

Maiko burst out laughing through her tears.

“Hm?”

Sitting, Maiko grabbed a napkin and patted her face dry. She shook her head.

“C’mon,” he pushed.

“Thank anyway, Big Brother, but I already did.”

“Really? Way to go Maiko,” he praised when she nodded.

Pushing her worries aside for another time, he focused on her older brother. “So, what about you?”

Shuichi shrugged. “Finally stopped puking thank God.”

Maiko laughed. “Well, you look great.”

Shuichi blushed. “Thanks.” At twelve weeks pregnant, he felt like a bloated whale. Like he could try out for the World’s Ugliest Dog Contest and win the grand prize.

“Where’s my nephew?” Maiko asked, glancing around the café.

“With Eiri.”

Maiko nodded and made a little humming noise that Shuichi recognized immediately.

“What?” he demanded.

Maiko blinked. “What what?”

“Maiko.”

Maiko smiled. “I was just wondering about you and Eiri.”

You and the rest of Japan, Shuichi thought rolling his eyes.

Something caught her eye. “What’s that?”

“Huh?”

She pointed at the open magazine. “That.”

“Oh!” Shuichi quickly grabbed the magazine and fumbled with as he hurriedly tossed it into his bag sitting besides him. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Maiko gave a weak smile. “…It’s that woman again, isn’t it?”

Taken aback, Shuichi blinked at his sister.

“What?” Maiko cocked her head to the side. “You think I wouldn’t keep up with what’s going on with my big brother?”

Shuichi felt like a fish as he opened his mouth and then closed it. He snorted with a quick shake of his head. She certainly was something else.

“So, what’s she up to this time?”

Shuichi rolled his eyes. “What else?”

“Takanori?” she guessed.

“Yeah.”

“…What if…?”

“Hm?”

“What if she’s right?”

Shuichi gaped at Maiko in disbelief. Not her too! “C’mon Mai!”

“I’ve seen pictures of Taki Aizawa, Shuichi.”

“Yeah and I’ve slept with him,” Shuichi shot back.

“So, you know it’s possible.”

Unable to meet her gaze, Shuichi glanced out the large window and watched as the cars zipped passed without a care in the world as something he has been trying to ignore for the passed fifteen months floated to the surface. Doubt.

**II**

**NG Productions Executive Offices**

He could not say he was surprised. “I’d expected as much.”

Reclining in the brown leather chair behind his desk at the top of the new Tokyo headquarters of his record company, Tohma Seguchi leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair. Steepling his fingers under his chin, he gazed across the office at the silver plaque hanging on the wall near the door. It was the first one Nittle Grasper received all those years ago when their first single went platinum. In essence, it was the foundation that started the empire. In a way, you could also say that it was because of that award that they were all in the midst of their current crisis.

There was a heavy sigh over the speaker phone. “The brat said he had nothing to prove.”

Tohma nodded. He said it before and he would continue to say it again and again. It was the policy of NG Productions to not negotiate with terrorists, blackmailers or other assorted bad characters. If you give in to them just once, then what was there to stop them, or others, from demanding more? Just because you comply with the kidnapper’s demands and hand over the ransom he was demanding, did not mean you would get back what he took from you. There was no guarantee he would leave you alone in the future either. Why would you trust someone who used underhanded tactics? So, he could not blame Shuichi for his response to Nami Mataguchi’s challenge. You never negotiated with terrorists. You did not give them the time of day and you did not budge an inch for them as you passed them by on the sidewalk. No, you treated them as you would any child throwing a hissy fit or a temper tantrum.

Dropping his hands into his lap, Tohma inquired, “Do you agree?”

“Takanori is my son and I don’t give a flying rat’s ass who fathered him,” was the instant reply.

That sounded like something Shuichi would say, Tohma decided, but it was also the same response Eiri has been giving for the past two years. Tohma had to hand it to his brother-in-law, taking in a child that was not his, taking responsibility for a mistake he did not make, taking on a duty that he had not signed up for... There were not many people would have done what he did. Tohma was not sure he could say with absolute certainty that he would have or could do the same if their positions were reversed. He would kick Mika’s lying, cheating ass to the curb and never look back. He was proud to admit that Eiri was his brother-in-law.

At the same time…

“That’s not what I asked Eiri.” Silence greeted this statement. Frowning, Tohma dropped his hands and leaned forward. “Eiri?”

Even though he understood why Shuichi was against giving in to the demands of a mentally unstable lunatic, he could also understand the other side as well. Did little Takanori Uesugi not deserve to know the truth? He had the right to know who his biological father was. How can you know where you are going if you have no idea where you came from? In order to have a future, you must have a past. Was Eiri afraid that he might lose his son if he allowed his son to search out the truth? If Taki Aizawa was found to not be little Takanori’s biological father, what did that mean? If the man who fathered little Takanori was still out there and if he became aware of his son’s existence, did that mean everything would change? Could the man sue for custody? Would Eiri’s paternal rights be revoked? There was so much uncertainty and so many unanswered questions that Tohma could not fault Eiri for hesitating. But no matter what the results of Shuichi’s decision was in the end, Eiri would always be little Takanori’s father.

“You and Shuichi may not care, but doesn’t little Takanori deserve to know the truth?” A sigh over the line had Tohma called out his brother-in-law’s name once again. “Eiri?”

“…I’ll talk to him,” Eiri finally answered. “I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try talking to him again.”

 

* * *

 

Tohma swiveled his chair around and gazed out his floor to ceiling wall of windows at the metal and glass landscape that was Tokyo. It was a breathtaking sight.

Nami Mataguchi was going to be serious trouble. That’s what he thought two years ago at the press conference. More than anything he wished he had been wrong, but unfortunately, he almost never was.

 

* * *

 

**Koishikawa Park Tower – Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

Shuichi pushed away from the back wall when the elevator jolted to a stop. He laid a hand over his “baby bump” (as the press liked to call it). “It’s alright,” he whispered reassuringly at the nervous flutter of movement. A ping sounded. Moments later, the doors slid open. Rubbing his belly, Shuichi stepped out of the elevator, fixing the strap of his messenger bag.

It had been nice to see his little sister again. The two of them had never been particularly close growing up. Shuichi was not sure why, even now. It was too bad that something like this was what brought them together.

The thick carpet muffled his footsteps as he made his way down the hall. A nervous twitter fluttered to life in the pit of his stomach. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. Forcing himself to swallow, he paused before the door at the end of the hall that had N802 in large gold romanji secured above the peep hole.

What he told Maiko at the coffee shop was the truth and he was sick and tired of people saying otherwise: Eiri and he had not split up. Neither he nor Eiri--to the best of his knowledge--had plans of filing for a divorce in the near future. The tabloids could spew whatever garbage they wanted, but it would not change the truth. They were just currently separated. That was all.

Contrary to popular opinion, nobody cheated. There had been no physical, emotional or sexual abuse. There were no irreconcilable differences. There had been no fisticuffs--well, anymore than usual. He would be lying if he admitted that he and Eiri did not have their share of arguments and disagreements for there were. He did not know of any couple that did not. But that was not the reason why he and Eiri were currently residing in two different residences.

He and Eiri were still very much in love. They planned on spending the rest of their lives together, raising their children and eventually their grandchildren and possibly even their great grandchildren together. Shuichi wanted to fall asleep at night with his husband’s secure presence at his back. He wanted to be safe in the knowledge that when the sun rose above the horizon, bringing with it another day, he would wake with the same comforting presence besides him. He wanted to watch as his husband’s hair went first grey, then white and finally disappeared all together. He wanted them to get all wrinkly and get fat together. He wanted a house in the suburbs with the white picket fence and 2.5 kids.

But this little--interlude was just something that Shuichi wanted. It was something he’d needed. Several months ago, he’d had a severe panic attack when he came to the sudden realization that he was only eighteen years old with a one-year-old son (that he absolutely adored), was married (to the most gorgeous man in the world who absolutely adored him in return) and was trying to have another baby. His entire life, he has been provided for. If it wasn’t his parents (what little care they did give him), it was Ryuichi or Tatsuha or Kizou and now Eiri. He has always been dependent upon someone and never had the opportunity to be his own person.

“I just need some space,” was what he said.

One of his closest friends from middle school had an older sister who converted to Christianity and ended up entering the religious life. His friend admitted to him that he has never seen his sister happier. After a year in the monastery, she left. The Mother Superior told her, apparently, that she needed to experience more of the world before she committed herself fully to becoming part of the Dominican Sisters. So that was just what she did. She found a job, moved out of her parents’ house and into a studio across town and even started dating. For close to five years, she lived the life of a normal twenty-something year old Japanese woman. Until one day, she felt that call and returned to the life she had been forced to abandon. But, if she hadn’t of taken those few years to actually live, who was to say that she wouldn’t have left the order some time down the road full of regrets?

It was the same with him. He loved Eiri with all of his heart, but he did not want to wake up twenty, thirty years from now, and wonder, “what if…?”

Clearing his throat, Shuichi ran his hands over the front of his shirt to smooth out any wrinkles. Then he tugged at the hem of his shirt. Next, he straightened his collar and then once again ran his hands down the front of his shirt. He paused briefly over his belly. A soft smile spread across his face.

“Daddy’ll be happy to see you,” he whispered.

“Baka.”

Startled, Shuichi’s head snapped up. “Eiri,” he breathed over his racing pulse.

“How many times are you going to smooth out wrinkles that are not there?” Eiri asked his husband in amusement.

Shuichi’s face flushed in embarrassment at having been caught primping himself. “Shut up,” he snapped as he pushed roughly passed the writer into the condominium.

Eiri chuckled as shut and locked the door behind Shuichi.

“How was he?” Shuichi asked as he toed off his shoes in exchange for house slippers.

Shrugging, Eiri crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “You mean other than deciding he wants to be a drummer when he grows up?” He still had a headache that aspirin did not seem capable of curing. Damned brat. Like mother like child apparently.

“Oh no,” Shuichi whined. “He didn’t!”

“He did.”

“I’m so sorry, Eiri.” Though Shuichi could not hold back the laughter. He could just picture little Takanori’s drum solo and the throbbing vein in Eiri’s forehead.

“It’s not funny,” Eiri grumbled.

The knowledge that his son had taken a shinning to Eri’s drums was a welcome surprise for Shuichi.

Pushing away from the wall, Eiri stepped out of the entrance hall and immediately into the dining room. Due to the open layout, he could see clear into the living room on his left. The kitchen was off the dining room to the right. The master bedroom suite was located down a hallway on the far side of the kitchen. The other three bedrooms were located down the hall off the living room. The north and east wall of windows provided a breathtaking ninety- degree view of Tokyo. Theirs was also the only condominium in the building that provided access to the balcony from every room in the condo. It was the idea of having a wraparound porch that sold the condo to both him and Shuichi in the first place. But with Shuichi living on the other side of the city at the present moment with their son, the condo tended to be too large for just him. It was why he tended to hole himself in his study.

“If you bring my son to the studio again, I swear to God…!”

Shuichi rolled his eyes as he followed Eiri into the living room. “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.”

Eiri tossed Shuichi a glare.

In response, Shuichi gave him his patent innocent look.

Eiri snorted. Baka, he thought.

“Speaking of the little devil, where is he?” Shuichi glanced around.

“Watching _Little Einsteins_ in his room. Thank God.” Eiri was not sure if his head or his sanity could any more of his son’s drum recital.

“Takanori loves that show.”

“Yeah. That and _Dora, Diego, Bob the Builder, Thomas the Train, Cailou_ …”

Just put on a DVD and little Takanori instantly turned catatonic. It was a sure fire way to get an hour or two of peace and quiet. Eiri had been against a television in Takanori’s room at first, but quickly considered it to be a godsend once he discovered the benefits.

Deciding to check in on him, Shuichi cut a path to his son’s room.

He found the almost two-year-old sitting quietly in his little _Cars_ lawn chair in front of the television. He was staring as if hypnotized at the screen. That was the way Takanori would stay until the show was over.

Shuichi giggled. Cute.

_“So, what’s she up to this time?”_

His smile wilted as his sister’s voice floated into his head.

_Shuichi rolled his eyes. “What else?”_

_“Takanori?” she guessed._

_“Yeah.”_

_“…What if…?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“…What if she’s right?”_

_Shuichi gaped at Maiko in disbelief. Not her too! “C’mon Mai!”_

_“I’ve seen pictures of Taki Aizawa, Shuichi.”_

_“Yeah and I’ve slept with him,” Shuichi shot back._

_“…So, you know it’s possible.”_

_Unable to meet her gaze, Shuichi glanced out the large window and watched as the cars zipped passed without a care in the world as something he has been trying to ignore for the past fifteen months floated to the surface. Doubt._

It was something he refused to even think about let alone discuss. Why did all of these people continue to press the issue? Who cares who fathered his son? All that should matter was that Eiri was little Takanori’s father now. Period. What did it matter to Nami Mataguchi? What business was it of hers?

His grip tightened around the door frame.

No. It did not matter. There was no way he was going to start second guessing himself. Eiri was their son’s father. End of story.

Shuichi quietly backed out of his son’s room and made his way to the living room.

“Here,” Eiri said holding out a glass filled with purplish liquid.

“What-?”

“Juice.”

“Oh.” Of course. Eiri did not want his children polluting their bodies with crap. Shuichi took the proffered glass, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at his husband’s over-protectiveness and took a seat on the couch.

With his coffee, Eiri sat opposite him in the armchair.

Shuichi took a sip of the juice and then set it in the coffee table. “Oh!” His hands flew to his belly.

Eiri was instantly on alert. “Baby?!”

Shuichi caught his breath as his heart skipped a beat. His face turned lobster red at the endearment. With his chin tucked into his chest, Shuichi shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he assured the blond writer.

Eiri frowned. “You sure?”

Shuichi nodded. He sighed and sat back. Folding his hands over his belly, he leaned his head back against the back of the sofa. “They just like to express their opinions.”

Eiri chuckled. Relived it was not anything serious; he took a careful sip of his coffee and then placed the mug on the end table besides his chair.

“Apparently they don’t care for the juice.”

“Just like their mother.”

Shuichi’s lips twitched. “Yeah. Yeah.” Opening his eyes sparkling in merriment, he turned his head to the side and gazed at Eiri. “They still don’t like the elevator.”

Eiri snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s just something they’re going to have to get used to. Unless, that is, you feel the need to walk up eight flight of stairs.”

Shuichi’s cheek developed a pinkish tint at the implied meaning. It darkened when Eiri chuckled. He deliberately turned his gaze away.

This was nice. He missed this.

“Hey.” Eiri’s voice broke through the silence that had settled around them.

“Hm?” Shuichi turned back towards his husband.

“…Will you…uhm…”

Shuichi picked his head up and studied Eiri. Was he…blushing? Shuichi smothered a laugh. “What?” he pressed.

Turning his gaze from Shuichi’s bemused expression, Eiri coughed into his fist. He was mortified that just asking one simple question made him start to feel like a school girl with her first crush. God, how embarrassing.

Cocking his head, Shuichi sat up. “What?”

Eiri glared at him. “If you make me ask you again…”

Despite the threat, Shuichi’s mile widened. His eyes sparkled. “I’d love to stay for dinner, Eiri.”

“Good,” Eiri nodded.

Shuichi giggled.

“Baka,” Eiri mumbled.

Shuichi laughed harder.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou Household – Kyoto, Japan**

With her husband not due home for some time, Mrs. Shindou crept up the staircase to the spare bedroom that was in the process of being converted into the nursery for her soon-to-be grandchild. In other words, her son’s old bedroom. Once she was safely inside, she shut the door behind her. Because the room was in the middle of being painted, all the baby furniture had been pulled into the center of the room and covered with a tarp. A second one had been laid on the floor on the far side of the room to keep the newly installed carpet from getting ruined. The walls used to be a deep navy blue. It was not a color Shuichi had chosen or ever liked. The dark color always made the room seem so dark and drab and depressing. Her husband had chosen the paint color and refused to allow Shuichi to change it. But when Maiko announced that she wanted them yellow, the tinted primer had gone up and half of the room was painted virtually overnight.

It did not seem fair. Her husband coddled Maiko, but all but ignored Shuichi. When she first started dating him, she had no idea that blood meant so much to him. Not that there was something wrong with that. It was something to be proud of. But still. Technically, Ryuichi was not blood kin to her husband either. He adopted him not long after they started dating. Despite that, he loved Ryuichi as if he were his own. If he did not, he would not have asked to adopt him in the first place. Was it because Shuichi was a neutral? Sometimes that seems as if it was the problem, but other times, it seemed as if it was something else entirely. So, what was it? What was it about Shuichi that her husband seemed to detest so much?

She halted with her hand on the closet doorknob.

Could it be…? Was it because they had been forced to adopt Shuichi after L8r Entertainment blackmailed Ryuichi into giving up his parental rights? It made sense. Her husband voluntarily adopted Ryuichi because he loved her and her son and wanted them to be family, but bringing in a second adopted child into the Shindou family? And another boy at that? Him being the illegitimate son of his first adopted son? In essence his step-grandson? Add to it the fact that he could not seem to have children of his own with her was like adding insult to injury. They only had Maiko because they had undergone vitro infertilization (it was not something they broadcasted).

She knew she used to have a problem (and to some extent still did) with the fact that Shuichi was a neutral, but at least she had not alienated him…Had she?

Opening the closet door, she searched in the back of the closet. Hidden in a small unmarked box amongst crumbled newspaper was a faux red leather photo album. She sat down under the window where her son’s bunk bed used to be and set the album down on her raised knees. Opening the cover, she ran her middle finger over the clear plastic protective sheeting. Her vision misted over as tears stung her eyes. It was not the protective sheeting that made her heart ache as it did, but what lay beneath it. It was a black and white photo she clipped from the newspaper and it was the only photograph she had of her son-in-law and grandson. She would give anything to be able to hold her baby boy and his baby boy.

The tears one by one started falling. The sob that had become lodged in her constrictive throat broke loose and echoed into the nursery. Hugging the open photo album to her chest, Mrs. Shindou cried quietly for the child she lost. She loved her husband. She really did. But choosing him over her son had been the worst decision of her life. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done now. It was far too late.

 

**…To Be Continued…**


	2. Acceptance

**Chapter 2: Acceptance**

**_The Trinity_ Office - Setagaya, Tokyo**

With the exception of a few who were working on additional research for their articles, everyone had gone home for the night. One of those few remaining was Nami Mataguchi who twirled a pencil ambidextrously as she sat at her desk. Playing softly in the background was some Christian rock song that she could not remember the name of.

With a growl, she flung the yellow number two pencil down in frustration and ran her fingers through her short black locks. Leaning back, she laced her fingers together behind her head and glared through anger clouded vision at the drop down ceiling.

Was he choosing to ignore her challenge? Again? Some would say that made him the better man. It was braver to walk away than to return the punch. It was more Christian-like to turn the other cheek. Yada. Yada. Yada. People could say whatever they liked, but she did not believe any of it. At least, not in this particular case. The fact that young Mr. Shindou continued to have “no comment” was in and of itself a comment. It was the answer she had been searching for this whole time. It meant she was right in her beliefs. She had to be. She had to give him cudos for sticking to his guns. The fact of the matter was that if she was wrong and he right, then he should not have any problem in proving it. Right? Seeing that he refused to give her and the public a sufficient answer meant that she was indeed right.

A grin slowly made its way onto her face.

Maybe she could use that. Rile him up a bit.

Dropping her hands, she reached for the phone. Her fingers danced over the keys.

“Thank you for calling TCN, The Christian Network. This is Kinu. How may I direct your call?” answered a young sounding female over the line. (1)

 

* * *

 

**Uesugi-Sakuma Residence – Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

Ryuichi was roused out of his semi-comatose state by the sudden ringing of the house phone. It echoed shrilly throughout the condominium. As tempted as he was to ignore it and roll over and go back to sleep, he let out a groan as he struggled into a sitting position. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he slipped his bare feet into his slippers and padded groggily out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room. He grabbed the cordless extension from the end table besides the couch.

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is Dr. Kimio Moriyama from Yowa Hospital,” came the female voice in his ear (2).

Suddenly wide-awake, Ryuichi tensed. His grip on the phone tightened.

“I am looking for a Ryuichi Sakuma.”

Now he knew why he had been tempted to ignore the phone. As much as he would like to inform the caller that she had the wrong number, he could not very well in good conscience do such a thing. Why had his mother raised him to be a proper young man? “This is he,” he admitted into the phone. He cringed at the admission.

“Ah, Mr. Sakuma. Hello. How are you today?”

Pleasantries. That was not a good sign. “…Fine. How are you, ma‘am?” he asked in return.

“I’m doing well, thank you.”

There was silence for less than a second, but it seemed to stretch on for eternity.

“Mr. Sakuma, are you acquainted with a Mr. Yuki Kitazawa?”

“Yes, I am,” he admitted cautiously. Where was this going?

“Mr. Sakuma, I am sorry to have to inform you that Mr. Kitazawa…“

Ryuichi held his breath.

“…attempted suicide a short time ago.”

His breath rushed out in a soft sigh. That was not what he had been expecting.

“One of he nurses found him hanging from a makeshift noose he made out of one of his bed sheets. We were able to revive him so he should be fine. There shouldn’t be any lasting effects.”

Damn. He knew it was too good to be true.

“…Mr. Sakuma?”

Ryuichi cringed. Did he say that a loud? “Look…Dr. Moriyama, was it?”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last time he tries to off himself. What he does is none of my concern.”

“But Mr. Sakuma-!”

“I may be listed as his next of kin, but I have absolutely nothing to do with him. Not anymore.”

“But it says here-”

“Next time don’t stop him.” He slammed the phone down as the doctor sputtered over the line. With a hand on the extension, he dropped his face into the other.

There was a noise behind him.

Startled, Ryuichi spun around and came face to face with Tatsuha. He gulped, wondering how much the younger man heard.

“Who was it?” Tatsuha asked innocently around the armload of groceries.

“No one.”

“Ryu…”

“It was nothing, Tatsuha,” Ryuichi insisted. He grabbed one of the bags out of his lover’s arms and strolled around him to the kitchen, hoping that Tatsuha dropped the subject. However, he should have known better.

“Was it about Yuki?” Tatsuha asked as he set the bag that he was holding on the counter besides the stove.

Ryuichi sighed as he put the mayo in the pantry, but did not say anything. Why did Tatsuha have to be so persistent?

“Ryu…”

“Don’t.”

Tatsuha sighed. He knew all about Ryuichi’s past with Yuki Kitazawa and how Ryuichi felt about the other man. Truthfully, Tatsuha could not blame Ryuichi for feeling the way he did, but even though Ryuichi may despise Kitazawa and may want nothing to do with him, the fact of the matter was, Yuki Kitazawa was Shuichi’s birth mother. “Look, Ryu-”

“I said ‘don’t’,” Ryuichi snapped. He slammed the pantry door shut harder than was necessary.

“You hate him. I get it.”

“Do you?” Ryuichi rounded on his long time lover. “Do you really?”

Tatsuha chose to ignore that. “He’s the mother of your son!” he protested.

“Yeah, the son he very nearly killed,” Ryuichi shot back.

Tatsuha did not know what to say to that. It was true. If it were anyone else, he would be confident in saying that threatening to jump was nothing more than a bluff, an attention grabbing action, but Yuki Kitazawa was not just anybody. He truly was psychotic and just might have jumped if one of the security guards at the old L8r Records studios had not tackled down from off the ledge.

Ryuichi ran his hands over his face. “If he wouldn’t have been a Nittle Grasper fan and snuck backstage to see me after one of our concerts, Shuichi never would’ve been conceived. If Yuki hadn’t become obsessed with me after that night, I might never have known that he was pregnant. If he hadn’t of made such a scene at the studio, I might never have known about Shuichi because the psychotic bastard would have thrown himself to his death killing both of them!”

“…Ryu…”

“We had one night. That’s it.”

“Yeah, but that one night linked the two of you together for the rest of your lives,” Tatsuha reminded his lover.

Ryuichi said nothing.

“Whether you like it or not, Ryuichi Sakuma, Yuki Kitazawa is going to a part of your life till the day you die because he is the mother of your son. You don’t have to like him. Nobody’s saying you have to. You‘re going to have to just grin and bear and grow the fuck up.”

Unfortunately, Tatsuha was right, but that did not mean that Ryuichi had to like it. His fisted his hands to keep from lashing out.

Tatsuha frowned. “Ryu?”

Ryuichi turned on his heel and marched out of the kitchen without a word.

Tatsuha watched his lover sadly.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou Residence – Kyoto, Japan**

“I’m telling you, he is as big as a house,” Maiko exclaimed as she set the table for dinner.

For each place setting, she placed the rice bowl on the left and the soup bowl on the right. Behind them, she set three flat plates for the _okazu_. One of the flat plates sat on the far left, one at the far right and the final one in the center.

Mrs. Shindou’s heart ached at the talk of her baby boy. She might not have given birth to him, but Shuichi meant just as much to her as if she had. Choosing her husband over Shuichi was the stupidest decision she ever made in her entire life. It would haunt her until her dying day.

With her back to her daughter, she clutched a hand to her chest as her other hand worked the stir-fry in the wok.

“I mean, I’m not sure how far along he is,” Maiko continued, unaware that what she was saying was affecting her mother, “but he’s bigger than me!” She giggled as she set the chopsticks down on their matching _hashioki_ at the front. She made sure the pointed ends of the chopsticks were pointed to the left (3). “Of course I didn’t say that to him.”

A tear slid unseen down Mrs. Shindou’s cheek as her daughter continued to prattle on undeterred.

 

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to his wife and daughter, Mr. Shindou had returned home from the office earlier than usual with some very good news. He’d been promoted. However, as his daughter’s excited monologue reached his ears, he backpedaled out of the kitchen doorway. The smile on his face wilted and died. With a heavy heart, he slumped back against the wall. He titled his head back and stared up at the ceiling blankly. His grip on the handle of his briefcase tightened.

 

* * *

 

**Koishikawa Park Tower – Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

Leaning against the railing, Eiri took a long drawl off his cigarette. The tip glowed. He peered through the billowing white mesh curtains at his husband and their son as they both lay on their stomachs in the middle of the living room coloring in a dinosaur coloring book he bought the boy from the discount store. He smirked. Little Takanori was like Shuichi’s doppelganger. They both held up their heads with the same hand and swung their feet in the air. He was not too sure about Shuichi lying on his stomach now that he was pregnant though. Shuichi claimed he was acting like an over protective mother hen and that he should not worry so much.

“…So,” he called as he grey smoke into the air, “what’s with the drummer?” With the addition of a drummer to the band, Bad Luck’s sound had evolved from the stereotypical pop into something more their own.

“You mean Eri?” Shuichi responded.

“Is that her name?” he asked in a bored, nonchalant tone.

Eiri was not fooling anyone. He knew what lay behind that bland tone. Shuichi rolled his eyes, but decided to play along. Propping onto his side, he turned to look at his husband. “Yeah. She’s not that much older than me and Hiro.”

Eiri was impressed. She was as much a genius with the drums as Hiro was with the guitar. Shuichi really knew how to pick his band mates. That was not a snide remark either. “She was a…” What were they called? “…studio musician?” What a waste of talent.

Shuichi shook his head. “She used to be part of another band.” He scratched his cheek. “I’m not sure what they were called, but there was some sort of infighting within the band and she ended up quitting.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t really talk about it.”

“Hm. Well, their loss is your gain I suppose.”

“That’s for sure.”

“…What?” Eiri growled as Shuichi continued to watch him.

Grinning, Shuichi shook his head before returning to coloring with their son.

“Baka,” Eiri muttered. He turned to gaze out over the city. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. This was nice. This was what he has been missing for the last several months. The last thing he wanted was to push him, especially if he was not ready yet, but he wondered if he could get Shuichi to move back home?

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

 

**_The Trinity_ Offices - Setagaya, Tokyo**

“Are you sure about this?” the male voice over the line asked her for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening.

“Of course I am,” she snapped back. “Why wouldn’t I be? I‘m the one who called you.”

There was a heavy sigh. “Look, Nami…”

“Save it, Chishin,” Nami Mataguchi bit. She swirled her chair around to glare out the windows into the rapidly descending twilight.

“Don’t you think you’re taking this too far?”

“No. I do not.”

In his office at The Christian Network studios, Chishin Yamada reclined in his leather chair behind his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the beginnings of a looming headache. “Why do you care so much?”

“You know why,” Nami answered him.

“Humor me.”

“Fine.” She started counting. Her index finger on her free hand rose up. “You have a man who is known as Japan’s cold, stoic, heartless bachelor.”

“Accepted.”

“In the past, he’s avoided commitment like the plaque.” A second finger went up.

“Accepted.”

“Then we learn that he’s involved with someone.” A third finger. “And this was after saying in an interview for Book TV that he was convinced love didn’t really exist.”

“People change.”

“Yes, but this someone is not an ordinary someone. But a Neutral,” she sneered the word. She fisted her hand and brought it down onto the arm of the chair.

In his office on the opposite end of the city, Chishin rolled his eyes. “Yes. Yes. They’re disgusting and immoral and wicked and gross and should not be allowed to exist.”

Nami nodded in agreement. “Exactly.” Apparently, she did not hear the sarcasm in her old friend’s voice. “But it does not end there.”

“Of course not.”

“This Neutral was pregnant.”

“Imagine that.”

“The pièce de résistance comes when we learn this pregnant Neutral is no more than a boy. A minor.”

“So?”

Nami’s grip tightened around the phone. How could he play this off as nothing? Did he not understand the severity of what she was trying to tell him? “’So’? ‘So’?”

“Yeah. So--what. In Tokyo, you become of age at seventeen and since the two of them started dating a couple months before he became of age, it‘s not something the police would-”

“That’s not the point!”

“And what is?” he shot right back.

“He was still a minor! The famous Eiri Yuki was fucking a minor who he ended up impregnating.”

“There’s no proof of that.”

A slow grin crossed Nami‘s face. “Exactly.”

Chishin sighed again. “Not all people are ruled by their libidos”

“That may be so, but Shindou was pregnant. He and Yuki were dating.” She pounded the arm of the chair she was sitting in for emphasis.

“If ‘a’ equals ‘b’ and ‘b’ equals ‘c’ then ‘a’ must equal ‘c’, huh?” Who said you could not adequately relate the math you learned in school and real life?

“Precisely. It‘s simple logic.”

Chishin sighed. Talking to her was like trying to have a meaningful conversation with a brick wall. “No it‘s not. The biological father of Mr. Shindou‘s son is his ex-boyfriend.”

“So they claim.”

“And why would they lie?”

“To cover the truth.”  
  
Of course it was. “The truth being what?” he asked aloud.

“That Eiri Yuki is the biological father.”

Chishin sighed. Yet again.

“You have to admit that it’s just a little too coincidental that Shindou’s so-called ex-boyfriend just happened to die in a tragic accident around the same time that it came out that he was not only pregnant but dating Mr. Bestselling-Romance-Bachelor Eiri Yuki.”

“Not really.”

“What?!”

“However,” Chishin continued, “I will admit that it’s mighty suspicious, but it doesn’t mean anything. Something similar happened to my cousin several years back. It happens.”

“We aren’t talking about your cousin!”

“I know that! I’m just saying that it doesn‘t mean there‘s something underhanded going on.”

“Of course it does!”

Chishin was becoming tired of sighing, but he could not seem to help it when he was speaking with her. “…What‘s this really about?”

“I’m telling you what this is about!”

He had to wonder about that.

“Are you going to do it not?”

“I don’t know, Nami. Frankly, I don’t give a damn about this supposed truth.”

“Yeah, well that makes one of us.”

“Nami-”

“You aren’t the only religious affiliate, ya know,” she reminded him. “I can take my story elsewhere.”

Chishin stopped himself from sighing for what had to be the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. That headache that had only been looming on the sidelines was now threatening to split his head open. He was getting too old for this.

 

* * *

 

**Koishikawa Park Tower – Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

“What’s the point in having nine hundred stations if there’s crap all on?” Eiri grumbled as he flipped passed station after station after station. This was why he did not watch television. Much. Maybe when he was feeling particularly bored he might decide to see what kind of crap the kids were buying at the record stores these days. If there just happened to be a Bad Luck video on it was pure coincidental. Despite the fact that he might watch on average three hours of TV a week, here he was stuck paying eighty-six hundred yen a month for nearly nine hundred stations. And why?

“You just don’t want to watch any of that ‘crap all’,” Shuichi corrected as he meandered out of the kitchen and made his way slowly back to the living room.

Oh. That would be why. “Exactly.”

Shuichi giggled lightly.

He finally settled on _Anaconda_ with Ice Cube and Jennifer Lopez. “Why you convinced me to get the premium package, I’ll never know,” he griped even though he knew the answer. He lightly tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

“That’s easy.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yup!”

“And that would be…?”

“Because you love me,” Shuichi replied happily.

Eiri snorted as he tried desperately to ignore the heat warming his cheeks.

“Here.”

He took the proffered bottle of beer and took a swig from the open dew covered dark amber colored bottle.

Folding his legs beneath him, Shuichi settled onto the sofa besides his husband. Being careful not to spill any of his drink, he hooked his left arm through Eiri’s right arm and cuddled against the writer’s side. Using him as a pillow, he rested his head against Eiri’s shoulder.

Eiri eyed the Nesquik 60th anniversary cup that was filled with some sort of yellow liquid suspiciously.

Feeling the heated gaze trained on him, Shuichi said, “Lemonade,” before Eiri had a chance to even form the words to ask. He lifted his head and gazed up at his husband.

Eiri narrowed his eyes.

“Honest. Non-carbonated.”

It amazed Eiri that Shuichi knew such a big word, but he had no choice but to believe the pink haired singer. Seeing as he was the one who had stocked the refrigerator, he knew that no carbonated beverages were readily available under this roof. However, knowing Shuichi as well as he did, it would not surprise him if Shuichi somehow were able to sneak an illicit beverage into the condominium without him knowing it. “Baka.” It rather irritated him that Shuichi knew him so well, but he was proud at the same time.

Grinning, Shuichi giggled. He settled back against Eiri’s side, feeling content for the first time in a long time, and hugged his cup to his chest.

Eiri took another sip of his beer and tried to follow along with the movie that he had apparently caught mid-way through. It was something about a film crew who was trying to film some sort of documentary in what appeared to be the Amazon, but was now being stalked by an anaconda that was impossibly huge.

“I love you, you know,” Shuichi admitted unexpectedly after several seconds of blissful silence.

Eiri blinked at the admission. “What?”

“I love you.”

Eiri snorted, “You sure as hell better.” He turned back to the television just in time to watch a man being strangled to death by the giant anaconda.

Shuichi giggled. He tightened his hold on Eiri and snuggled as close as he could get despite his little baby bump. Eiri would not mind having his children resting in his arms, though. A look of absolute bliss on his face, he heaved a sigh full of content. His wide grin dwindled slowly into a soft smile, but the swell of emotion within him burned as brightly as ever. This was nice. He did not want to ever let go of this feeling.

When his pillow disappeared and the front of him grew suddenly cold, Shuichi pouted.

Growing bored of the movie, Eiri pulled out of Shuichi’s restraint-like grip, smirking at the small whine this action elicited from him. Maybe getting his baka to move back home was not going to be so difficult after all. He snatched Shuichi’s cup out of his hand. Leaning forward, he set both it and his beer on the table besides the remote control. Sitting back, he turned to face his pink-haired love and rested his hands on Shuichi’s belly. “How’re you feeling?”

A light blush coloring his cheeks, Shuichi lowered his head and said, “Pregnant.”

Eiri chuckled lightly. “Not giving you any trouble?”

Shuichi shook his head negatively. “Not yet, but it‘s still early.”

Eiri snorted. Unfortunately, that was all too true. The fun was yet to come. Yi--pee. He could hardly wait. When Shuichi had been pregnant with little Takanori, he had very nearly gone insane. Talk about a roller coaster of emotions. It was tempting to wait until Shuichi went into labor to ask him to move back home so that he did not have to go through the rigorous side effects of his partner’s pregnancy, but not being able to hold Shuichi in his arms at night was a hundred times worse. “So, come up with any names?”

Shuichi shrugged. “A couple.”

“Like?”

“Kita if it’s a boy.”

Cute, but Eiri was not too sure about it as a choice for his son. It sounded somewhat pansy-ish. The last thing he wanted was to have a child of his go through life being teased and bullied because Shuichi could not be bothered to think up a good, strong name for their son. Seriously, did Shuichi want their child to grow up to become a weakling?

“And maybe Aina for a girl.”

Now that he could live with. “But how bout Sen if it‘s a boy?”

Shuichi muddled it over. “It’s--okay…I guess.” He had to admit that he liked the name he picked out better.

“It was my grandfather’s name.”

“Really?” This little tidbit of information did nothing to change his opinion about the name Eiri wanted for their son. It sounded like a girl’s name.

“Yes, really,” Eiri said with meaning. He knew exactly what was running through Shuichi’s mind.

Shuichi rolled his eyes. He still thought Sen sounded like a girl’s name.

“I was thinking of Kaya or Sayo for my daughter.”

Shuichi immediately latched onto the suggestions. “Oo! I like those,” he exclaimed, grinning broadly. “Hey, ya know, Mai’s thinking of Poema if she has a daughter?”

Eiri chocked. “What?! What the hell kind of name is that?”

“That’s what I said! She’s adamant though.”

“Is that like Koenma?” Eiri teased.

“Eiri,” Shuichi scolded. He slapped his husband playfully.

Eiri chuckled. He settled back next to his lover and ran his fingers through his golden mane. “Dear God. It’s like a hippie naming their kid Rainbow.”

“Hey, now there’s a name.”

Eiri narrowed his eyes at his husband. “You do you die.”

Shuichi grinned slyly. “What? You don’t like it?”

Eiri felt his eye twitch. He swore by all that was holy that if Shuichi did something as asinine as name their child “Rainbow” or “Sunshine” or “China Rose” or something he would file for divorce. A low growl trickled out of his mouth.

Shuichi giggled. Hooking his arm through Eiri’s, he laid his head back on Eiri’s shoulder. “She says ‘hi’ by the way.”

His mind still on the long list of idiotic names his husband could decide to choose for their children, he said, “Who?” in a distracted manner.

“Maiko.”

“When’d you talk to her?” It was nice that the two of them could finally start connecting. Because Shuichi had been ostracized by his father his whole life, he and his sister had not had much of a relationship. It was too bad that it took something like the events of the past two years to bring the siblings back together.

“We had lunch at that café across the street from NG. La Coix de something or other.”

Eiri chuckled. “La Noix de Coco?”

“Yeah! That’s it.”

“How is she?”

“Pregnant.”

Eiri rolled his eyes. “No kidding.”

Shuichi giggled, but the warm glow slowly dimmed until it vanished all together, leaving behind a heavy feeling of melancholy. Back when he was pregnant with Takanori, it had been so hard to tell his parents that he was going to have a baby, especially knowing how his father felt about him being a “freak of nature”, as he oh, so nicely put it. Part of him had been adamant that they would overlook their prejudices and be happy for him, maybe even excited. That had given him the courage to tell them that they were going to be grandparents. He had not expected kisses and hugs or tears of joy, but some support at least. Who would not want to have a newborn to spoil and coo over and then hand off when it was time for a changing? Yes, he had been sixteen years old, practically a baby himself. As a parent himself, he knew he would hit the roof if his child came up to him one day and admitted something like that to him. So of course, he had been prepared for a little yelling and a little screaming, but he never expected to be kicked out of his own house.

What’s more, he had not expected his parents’ reaction to do a complete one-eighty when his baby sister confessed that she was pregnant at sixteen.

Why? Why did they welcome her with open arms and tears of joy and kisses and hugs when they had shown him such animosity? Was it because she had been practically raped by a guy she had had a crush on for years and that he had spread his legs willing? Or was it because she was a proper woman and he was nothing more than this thing stuck in between being a male and a female?

Eiri became worried when Shuichi remained silent for longer than he was accustomed to. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

A stray tear slid unchecked down Shuichi’s cheek. He shook his head.

Eiri did not like to see Shuichi like this. It had been two years, but the pain was still as raw as it was on that day when Shuichi’s father had literally tossed him out of the house. As much as he wished he could, Eiri knew he could do or say nothing to make the hurt go away. It will be with him, haunting him, for the rest of his days. “They’ll come around.” They had to. The alternative was too depressing.

Shuichi nodded, though he did not really believe that to be the case. More than anything, he wanted all of them to be this big happy family like the Waltons, but that was nothing more than a fantasy.

He swept at the tears that coursed down his face and settled back against Eiri.

Eiri laid his head against Shuichi’s where it was pillowed on his shoulder. A comfortable silence settled around them as they each settled back to watch the movie.

This was nice.

He reached out and rubbed a hand over Shuichi’s belly.

_Something inside Shuichi snapped. “What?! Then what the hell do you suggest Eiri?”_

_“Get the paternity test done.”_

_Shuichi did not have to think about it. He said, “No,” immediately._

_“Why the hell not?”_

_“I don’t have anything to prove to that bitch.”_

With a sigh, he leaned his head back against the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. He really screwed up hadn’t he? Shuichi did not want to give in to the demands of Nami Mataguchi. He understood the reasons behind Shuichi’s decisions, but he still thought it was foolish. She was not going to go away until she got what she wanted. Unfortunately, they could do nothing to stop her. They could not even sue her for slander.

If he had his way, he would get the paternity test done and it was not just to shut the religious extremist up either, though it would be an added benefit. No. He would get it done for Takanori. Shuichi may consider Eiri to be his son’s father and Eiri may think of Takanori as his son, but the harsh reality was that he was not little Takanori’s father and little Takanori was not his son; at least biologically speaking. Some day, Takanori may want to know who the man was who helped conceive him and Eiri wanted to be able to give him an answer.

“Look, Shu…”

“Mm?”

When those large violet eyes turned towards him, he faltered. “Nothing.” He turned away to hide the rosy color his cheeks had taken on.

Shuichi cocked his head and studied the older man for a few seconds longer.

Eiri’s dark blonde hair was longer than he normally liked to keep it. His usual layered circle cut had grown out into long layers that brushed the collar of his open collared white button down shirt. It was parted down the middle to frame the face. It reminded him of his drummer Eri’s surfer boyfriend’s hair. He liked Eiri’s hair like this. It was pretty sexy. Though if Mika saw his hair this long she would force him to get it cut.

He took in the long black eyelashes that framed golden hazel eyes that stared out from a smooth, androgynous face, those angular cheeks, chiseled jaw, wide set shoulders and broad chest.

For the past half a year, he and little Takanori have lived apart from Eiri in a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment that he rented on the opposite side of Chiyoda from the condominium Tohma had purchased for him and Eiri when they decided to move here from Kyoto. It wasn‘t the two hundred square meters that this place was, but it served its purpose. He’d wanted to be close enough so that Eiri could visit their son whenever he chose to without having to inconvenience the author. At the same time, he’d needed their places to be far enough apart so that he could experience being his own man and having his own place without running next door to Eiri whenever he had a problem.

Moving out had been the hardest decision of his short, young life, but it was something that he’d needed to do. As excruciating as the choice may have been, if the opportunity arose, he would not take the chance to go back and stop himself from making it. However, he had to admit that as difficult as coming to this decision had been, it had been even harder to not recant the choice. It had taken all of his willpower to not call up Eiri and beg him to come and get them.

That first night alone, and every night after that, he had cried himself to sleep. Just that morning, six months after he and his son moved out, he put on a fresh pot of coffee (even though he did not even drink the stuff). Everybody knew he was a crybaby. He cried at least once a day and usually over something stupid. Now that he had his own place, he found himself bursting into tears in the most inopportune moments. For example, he had woken up after a restless night that first day and had inexplicably started sobbing when he stepped into the _tatami_ room and did not spot an ashtray on the _kotatsu_. Though the apartment he rented was barely sixty square meters, without Eiri it seemed twice as large. Despite a toddler running around like a chicken with its head cut off, it was too quiet. The twin-sized bed he attempted to sleep in at night was too empty, too big for just him. When he reached out for his husband in the middle of the night only to discover that the other side of the bed was still made up, he would curl up and sob.

It was what he had wanted, but living a solitary life in that apartment, even with his son, was not turning out at all like he had imagined it would. He had never felt so alone in his entire life.

What helped him make it through those cold, lonely nights was knowing that he would be seeing Eiri.

When his gaze rose back up, he met Eiri’s smirking gaze. He blushed hotly in embarrassment at being caught ogling.

Eiri chuckled.

Shuichi peeked at eye through the curtain of hair that veiled his face. His blush deepened.

Eiri reached out and smoothed a lock of the choppy long layered cotton candy pink hair behind Shuichi’s ear. He wondered idly if it was alright for Shuichi to be coloring his hair now that he was pregnant. That was something he would have to look into.

“Eiri?” Shuichi questioned as Eiri began caressing his face.

“Stay,” Eiri found himself saying.

Tensing, Shuichi blinked. “What?” He wanted to make sure he was not reading more into what was there.

“Stay here. With me.”

Tears filled Shuichi’s eyes. “Oh, Eiri!”

Eiri brushed aside a stray tear with his thumb. “I don’t mean just for tonight.”

With a sob, Shuichi nodded.

Leaning forward, Eiri captured Shuichi lips with his own. “I love you, Shu-chan,” he whispered as he pulled away.

“Me too, Eiri,” Shuichi echoed with tears spilling down his face.

“Letting you go was the stupidest thing I ever did,” Eiri admitted. Shuichi may have needed the experience of being his own man, but with each day that passed and Shuichi’s side of the bed remained cold and empty, he had to fight the urge to drag his baka back home where he belonged.

Shuichi laughed through his tears.

Standing up, Eiri held out his hand.

Swiping at his tears, Shuichi slid his hand into Eiri’s and allowed him to pull him to his feet.

Lacing their fingers together, Eiri lead his husband to their bedroom. “Welcome home Shuichi Uesugi,” he whispered. He brought lips together just as the bedroom door shut behind them.

 

* * *

**III**

* * *

**  
**   


**Uesugi-Shindou Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower – Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

This.

_Please!_

This was it.

_Oh God!_

It has been so long.

_Nuh!_

So very long.

_Ah!_

Wave after wave of intense pleasure coursed through him. It built up to the point where it was just this side of exploding in a fierce display to rival that of the grandest fireworks show, but then his husband would back off just before he reached that highest pinnacle. Automatically, he would feel the pleasure gradually lessen its hold on him, but then he would be worked right back up to that highest peak. Just like before, his husband would once again withdraw right before they crested. It was a never-ending cycle that lasted long into the night. He savored every agonizingly pleasant second.

 

* * *

 

**TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo**

Sitting at his desk in his office at The Christian Network studios, Chishin Yamada rested his chin in the cupped palm of his hand while his other hand tapped a staccato beat against the desktop as he stared blankly out the wall of floor to ceiling windows behind him. Because the sun had set long ago behind the metal and glass landscape, instead of taking in the breathtakingly beautiful view of his city, he was forced to stare at his own gloomy reflection. Turning away from the sight in disgust, he reclined in his leather chair and stretched his feet out before him under the desk. Dropping his head back, he stared across his office at the closed office door. What he would not give to be at his place right now, curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and a good book. Instead, here he was, stuck at the office for who knows how long, forced to dance to the beat of Nami Mataguchi’s delusional drums. Why? Because for some strange reason, she was convinced that dirty, underhanded lies surrounded Shuichi Shindou and Eiri Yuki’s relationship.

Whatever.

He had to admit that her claims were intriguing, but he frankly could care less either way whether or not she was right. Actually, he was hoping that Shindou would decide to take up the challenge she issued just so he could rub the fact that the past two and half years had been a huge waste of time and money on her part. Then maybe he could finally figure out what the catalyst was that has been pushing his long time friend into this unhealthy obsession of hers.

Yes, for as long as he has known her, she has not cared for Neutrals.  Why she seemed to have this deep-rooted abhorrence for the newly recognized third sex he could not say, but he had a feeling that her hatred for them had nothing to do with this obsession with the author and his singer husband.  No, it was…something else.

And, yes, technically Shindou had been a minor when he and Eiri Yuki started their relationship, but like he tried to tell Nami, if Shuichi Shindou and Eiri Yuki had indeed had more than just a platonic relationship like they claimed they did at the time of the press conference, it was not something the police would go after Eiri Yuki for. They were not going to waste taxpayer money for something as tedious as that. Just because the speed limit was thirty-five, you were not going to get a speeding ticket for going thirty-seven miles per hour.

As certain as he was that the sky was blue and grass was green, he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that this had less to do with proving that Eiri Yuki had actually fathered Shindou’s son thus proving that the two of them indeed had had more than just a platonic relationship and more to do with…What? That was the question.

Was her obsession because of Eiri Yuki? Could that be it?

Chishin shook his head.

Nami was not into romance stories. At least not the type that Eiri Yuki wrote that were filled with so much violence that it was difficult to even tell they were romance stories. Besides, she has never shown any interest whatsoever in Eiri Yuki before. At least, not in a fan girl type of way. He knew millions of hearts had been broken the day that Mr. Romance Novelist came out, but Nami’s had not been one of them.

Then, what was it? Why did she care so much about the biological paternity of a two year old?

No, it was not Takanori Uesugi’s DNA that mattered. It was something else.

Not too long ago, she was obsessed with trying to prove that Shindou was guilty of some sort of infidelity.

_“It’s the only explanation! Why would two people who claim to be inexplicably in love break up?”_ he remembered her saying.

That Shindou and Eiri Yuki had not actually broken up had not seemed to faze her.

Then not too long before that, she had made some sort insinuation about Shindou and Ryuichi Sakuma. He could not remember what she claimed exactly, but it had something to do with them looking too much alike to be merely half-brothers.

Whatever.

What it comes down to in the end is that it seems to him as if she was trying to find someway to bring Shindou down, which leads him to speculate that it had something to do with Eiri Yuki. If she had had a crush on the blond author then he might just buy that, but she didn’t. So…what? What was it? Something was going on here and he was determined to find out one way or another.

 

* * *

 

**Outside TCN Studios**

“…Yes,” Nami spoke into her cellphone as she walked briskly down the street towards the studio. “I’m there now…So far…Are you really sure you want to go through with this…? Well, it’s just that…No, no! Of course not! How could you…? Of course I do!” She sighed. “…Alright. If that’s what you want…Yeah. I’ll call you later then to tell you how it went. Bye.” She ended the call with a sharp flip of her phone. Clenching her hand around her phone, she stopped outside the tall modern glass sided building that housed TCN studios. She let her head fall back as she glanced up the massive skyscraper. When she felt her phone buzz silently in her hand, she brought up the message. The screen glowed brightly in the darkness of the night. “Huh. ‘Don’t disappoint me’.” Her grip tightened around the small electronic device, though her face gave nothing away. “Yes, well,” she whispered into the silent night, “if this doesn’t go according to your plan, I’m sure as hell going to take you with me.”

 

* * *

 

**The Next Morning - Uesugi-Shindou Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower – Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

Shuichi hurt--a lot. There was not a part of him that did not. Dear God even his hair hurt. How was that even possible? It took him less than a split second to remember why and he blushed crimson.

They say it was just like riding a bicycle. It was something you never forgot and knew how to do instinctually. As true as that statement was, it did not take away from the very real fact that his entire body was sore and cried out in pain whenever he moved. Eiri had been more than a little aggressive. The word “excessive” comes to mind. The blond author had been in a very primitive mood last night and apparently had had the desire to re-stake his claim and mark Shuichi as his own. Not like he ever lost his claim to him in the first place, but his Eiri was a very possessive and very domineering man who wanted the whole world to know just to whom Shuichi Shindou belonged.

“Stupid Eiri,” he muttered as he very slowly made his way silently through the twilight-strung condominium.

Though…

He paused behind the sofa and stared across the living room out the sliding glass doors that led out onto the balcony at a Tokyo that was just beginning to wake up. A smile crossed his face.

…It was better to suffer through some minor pain and discomfort and know that when he woke up in the morning, his Eiri would be asleep besides him then to be slapped upside the head by reality when he came to the depressing realization that it all been a dream and once again he was all alone.

Yes. Maybe this was not so bad after all.

He started to turn away from the breathtaking sight of the city landscape spread out before him when something on the television, that neither of them had apparently turned off before they went to bed, caught his attention. Rounding the sofa, he grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned the volume up.

“And finally this morning,” the reporter for the early morning news was saying, “Nami Mataguchi released a statement late last night-”

Shuichi rolled his eyes. Of course she did. She issues a challenge. He ignores said challenge. She in turn releases a statement in order to rile him into accepting the challenge. It was a never-ending cycle that never worked.

“- from TCN studios.”

Shuichi frowned. Again from The Christian Network? What was up with this chick? Was she letting the backwards view of a religion that less than two percent of Japan practiced override her judgment (4)? Seriously. Did she not realize that most of the nation just did not care? She was worse than the tabloids; if that was even possible.

The reporter vanished and the screen split in half. On one side, there was a photograph of Nami Mataguchi, the woman who has been giving him so much trouble for the last two and a half years. On the opposite side of the screen was a written transcript of part of the statement she had apparently released.

He had to admit, though, that she was pretty cute. She had black hair cut into a short bob that angled down from the back to the front framing yellow-flecked dark brown eyes. Even though there did not seem to be a trace of makeup, her skin glowed. Her appearance had changed drastically in the two and a half years since he had first seen her at the news conference where Eiri and he announced their relationship. It was like looking at a different person. Though one aspect about her had not changed. She was as adamant as ever at discovering the truth behind his and Eiri’s relationship.

“’I’m very disappointed with Mr. Shindou’ she says,” the reported continued in a voice over. “‘The fact that he has once again chosen to ignore my challenge tells us a lot…’”

“Only to someone as psychotic as you,” he retorted softly.

“’If he is right about the parentage of his son, then he should have no reason not to get a DNA paternity test done. I find it highly suspicious that he refuses to have one done. Just what is he hiding?’”

He could feel the beginnings of a headache. Pointing the remote at the screen, he pushed the power button. The image of the reporter froze and then faded to black. With a sigh, he stood and placed the remote on the table.

“What a way to harsh a guy’s boner,” he muttered annoyed as he made his way to the swinging door that separated the bedrooms from the rest of the house. “Stupid bitch.”

Though he could not stop himself from thinking that she may just be right.

 

* * *

 

**Uesugi-Sakuma Residence – Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

Though Ryuichi could hear the distance sound of traffic from the balcony of the apartment he shared with his partner, the early morning hours right before dawn was eerily still. Sighing, he leaned against the brick wall behind him that separated their balcony from their neighbors. He stared up into the early dawn sky that was just beginning to lighten.

_“Whether you like it or not, Ryuichi Sakuma, Yuki Kitazawa is going to a part of your life till the day you die because he is the mother of your son. You don’t have to like him. Nobody’s saying you have to. You‘re going to have to just grin and bear and grow the fuck up.”_

Tatsuha’s harsh statement from the day before echoed in his mind over and over again. Crossing his arms over his chest, he dropped his head back and let his eyes slide shut.

_“…Are you going to tell him the truth? It’s not like there’s anything keeping you from telling him. Not anymore. Not like there was.”_

Pushing away from the wall, he scrubbed his hands over his face with a light growl from deep within his throat. “Dammit,” he hissed. Walking towards the center of the balcony, he leaned over the railing and watched the traffic far below him. This was insane! He was so confused. What should he do?

 

* * *

 

Tatsuha watched him from the shadows. He could not even begin to imagine what was going through his lover’s mind.

 

* * *

 

**Uesugi-Shindou Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower – Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

Shuichi lightly pushed down the door handle and swung open his son’s bedroom door just enough so that he could stick his head in. He chuckled silently at the sight that greeted him. Little Takanori was fast asleep in the direct center of his bed within a nest made from his bedcovers. The two year old was face down with his legs tucked underneath him and his thumb in his mouth. He gave no indication that he was any closer to waking up than he had been when they put him to bed not long after dinner. How his son could sleep comfortably like that was beyond him.

Shuichi noticed how his son’s naturally tanned complexion seemed to darken in contrast to the white T-shirt and boxer shorts that Eiri had put him in last night. He took in the raven locks that were mused and sticking on end, his round face and tiny nose. They were so much like his own. He could see so much of himself in his son and it was not just the boy’s physical appearance. Eiri claimed their son had his big mouth, his amazing lung capacity as well as his love for music. Shuichi could not be more proud of his little boy. There were even faint traces of Ryuichi within the toddler that he has begun to notice, but what he had never seen was Taki Aizawa.

_“Yeah, well, just make sure he looks like you,”_ he said turning his back on the kid.

Eiri had given him the ultimatum for agreeing to allow Shuichi to name their after his biological father, but Shuichi never would have guessed it would come true, but he had always considered it to be a godsend nonetheless. As much as he loved his son and as much as he was grateful to have his son as part of his life, the less he was reminded of that sourpuss bastard the better. The only aspect of Taki he had ever seen in their son were those beautiful brown eyes, but all that changed when little Takanori’s eye color began to change. Those eyes became the smoking gun.

They were typical Asian eyes with their epicanthic fold, meaning they were narrower and almost almond-like in shape, nothing like his own more rounder shaped eyes. He did not remember Taki’s being as tapered, but he had always just assumed that he had gone in for some sort of cosmetic surgery. It was not as if he would be the first one. But when those dark brown eyes that his son had been born with began to lighten into a golden hazel similar to Eiri‘s, he had taken a really good look at his son for the first time.

The evidence had been there all along, but he had not seen it. Little Takanori had never been lithe or slight. He had always been more on the hefty side. It was not to say that he was overweight. He was just big for his age. While little Takanori was only two years old, most people mistakenly thought he was four. That was unlike when Shuichi was growing up. Born a month premature, he had weighed a little over six pounds. Back in grade school, all of his teachers had called him “Peanut” because he had been so small. According to Ryuichi, little Takanori was taller than Shuichi had been at his age. A little on the short side, Shuichi himself stood barely over five feet. The more Shuichi had studied his son, the more the evidence began to pile up around him. It was there in the stubborn set of his son’s chin, along his jaw line and in his cheekbones.

A male face flashed before his eyes. Shuichi shook his head to rid himself of the image. Impossible. He knew it. Taki had known it too, which was why he had claimed the child for his own because there was just no other option. That was why he refused to accept what had always been there right in front of his eyes. Besides, what did it matter? Eiri had accepted responsibility for a child that was not his. Tohma had had his attorney in Japan draw up the papers and had them faxed to his attorney in New York City where Eiri had signed the papers to legally adopt little Takanori not even twenty-four hours after his birth. Eiri’s name was even on the birth certificate. Eiri was their son’s father. That was all there was to it. Some stupid piece of paper was not going to change that.

But…

_They were trying to relearn how to breath when Shuichi’s soft voice broke into the silence. “Why did you press the issue of getting that paternity test done?”_

_Blinking, Eiri turned to face him. “Why?”_

_“Yeah.” Shuichi flipped onto his side. He held up his head with his hand. His other hand rested on his swollen belly. “Why? You’re his father, Eiri. Does it really matter who fathered him?”_

_Eiri turned his gaze away from Shuichi’s searching one and stared up at the ceiling, hidden within the shadows. “Not really. Not to me.”_

_Shuichi‘s gaze narrowed in confusion. “Then-?”_

_“But it will matter to Takanori someday. He’s going to want to know the truth.” Eiri turned his head around so that he was facing him. “Will you be able to give it to him?”_

…he could no longer deny it. You can only ignore the giant pink elephant in your living room for so long. The older his son became, the more evident it was.

Pushing away from the doorframe, Shuichi stepped back into the hallway and quietly shut the bedroom door behind him. He walked down the hall and out into the living room. He hade his way silently through the house to the kitchen. He picked up the cordless phone extension. His fingers danced over the keys.

“…It’s me,” he spoke into the receiver. “Sorry to wake you, but…I…I need to talk to you.”

 

**…To Be Continued…**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Not to be confused with TCT channel here in the US (though there are some people on that station that are a little…well, you get the picture).
> 
> 2\. Yowa Hospital is located in Nerima ward in Tokyo. It looks like a general hospital, but is home to about 400 patients with various psychiatric disorders. Dr. Kimio Moriyama is the actual president of the privately run hospital. Found this info from the Japanese Times.
> 
> 3\. Place settings found at wikipedia.
> 
> 4\. The only exposure Shuichi has had to Christianity is through Nami Mataguchi who really does give all Christians a bad name (which is the whole point, as she is an extremist)


	3. And the Truth Shall Set You Free

* * *

 

**Chapter 3: And The Truth Shall Set You Free**

**In route to Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

One of eleven wards of Kyoto, Kita-ku--meaning "North Ward"--was home to four universities. There was Bukkyo University; Kyoto Sangyo University; Ritsumeikan University, Kinugasa Campus and Otani University.

There was also the famous Rinzai sect temple Daitoku-ji, as well as the Kami Kamo Shrine--that was one of the oldest shrines in Japan--and Kinkaku-ji, or the “Golden Pavilion” that was one of the Japan’s most famous temples. These three temples were three of the most well-known in Japan.

As of 2008, there was estimated to be a population of about 122,391 people residing within Kita. One of those people just happened to be Shuichi Shindou‘s ex-lover, Yakuza mob boss Rique Kizou.

With his elbow resting on the lip of the window and his chin cupped in his hand, Shuichi gazed blankly out the window of the speeding train as the scenery whizzed by in blurs of colors.

He felt nauseous and it had nothing to do with his pregnancy and everything to do with the man whom he was on his way to see.

_Growling, Kizou clenched his hands into tights fists of fury. “Get out,” he said slowly in a dangerously low voice._

_Shuichi's laughter was silenced as if a switch had been flicked. Blinking, he sat up and looked at him in confusion. “What?”_

_Kizou rounded the bed and grabbing Shuichi's arm dragged him off the bed and out of the bedroom._

_Suddenly sober, Shuichi tugged against the painful vise-like grip on his arm. He planted his feet on the floor. “Kizou,” Shuichi whined. “You're hurting me! Kizou!”_

_The other occupants of the house were startled away as Kizou continued to drag Shuichi kicking and screaming through the house. Whispers followed the couple. “What's going on? What's happening?”_

_“What did I do?” Shuichi asked the man as tears flowed down his face. He tried prying off the hand clamped around his arm. “Kizou! Please!”_

_Kizou slammed open the front door in a fury and disgusted haze. He marched down the drive past the cars, still pulling a reluctant and hysterical Shuichi behind him. He tossed the boy down the driveway. Shuichi lost his balance and fell, hissing in pain as he skinned his shins and elbows. “Get out of here,” he snapped. “Now!”_

_Shuichi rolled around onto his back and stared up at the tall man who had been his entire world for the past year. “Why? What did I do?” he cried as the tears flowed down his face. “Please! I don't understand!”_

_Kizou gazed at his little lover and felt like a complete heel. All he wanted to do was pull the boy into his arms and never let go. He wanted to wipe that expression off his face. A smile suited Shuichi best. He truly did love this boy and he knew Shuichi felt something for him. It may not be the same feeling that he felt for him, but there was some sort of connection between the two of them. And he knew this was the only real home the boy had. But he just could not do it. He had a reputation to uphold. Besides, with the way things were right now, he could not continue to guarantee Shuichi’s safety. The last thing Kizou wanted was to pull Shuichi into the dark underworld of this organization. This way Shuichi had a chance to give the child that was growing within him a much better life than the kind of life he would have if both mother and son remained here with him. Someday, Shuichi will thank him for this._

_Steeling himself, he marched towards the boy and hunched over his quivering, half-naked form. “I. Don’t. Like. Freaks,” he hissed. It broke his heart to witness Shuichi’s complete world shatter around him. But it was all for the best. He just had to continue saying that to himself. It was all for the best._

Had that really only been three years ago? It seemed more like several lifetimes had come and gone since then. The person he had been then was not the person he was now. The Shuichi of three years ago and the Shuichi of today were two completely different people. It was difficult to even contemplate they had at one time been one and the same.

Back then, he had been utterly and completely alone. His father had adored Ryuichi and had raised him as if he were his own flesh and blood. When Maiko was born, their father had been the proudest parent on the face of the planet. He’d radiated happiness and glowed with pride, but when it came to the son he had actually fathered…Shuichi could have been a speck of lint on his sleeve. For the only attention his father had ever shown him was when he brushed him out of his way.

As for his mother…She claimed to love him, but in the end, what she loved was the image of him she had in her head.

Then there was Maiko…Though they were siblings, they could not be any different.  She was popular, smart and beautiful.  She did not sleep around, did not drink, did not experiment with drugs, did not hang around with questionable people and had a future ahead of her that could “put food on the table”.  Essentially, she was the perfect, ideal child.  She was everything that he was not, a child that a father could be proud of. 

Ryuichi was the only one who had ever loved him for who and what he was.  Ryuichi had never seen him as a failure or a mistake.  Ryuichi had loved him and cared for him when nobody else had.  Ryuichi had raised him like his own.  Unfortunately, though, because he was the lead singer of Nittle Grasper, Japan’s hottest rock band, he hadn’t always been there.  Ryuichi had always been out on the road, in the studio, at a photo shoot or being interviewed for some program or magazine.  His career had come first before anything else, even Shuichi.  During those few times when Ryuichi had actually been around, he had been overtly overprotective and had spoiled Shuichi rotten in an attempt to make up for all the time when he was absent.  When he was younger, Shuichi had eagerly awaited what little time they could spend together.  He’d loved all the attention and gifts Ryuichi showered him with.  As he grew, though, the anticipation and excitement had dwindled and died.  No amount of presents in all the world could make up for not having his big brother around and where the “over-protective elder brother” routine used to make him feel proud and special, it had grown quickly into an embarrassment.  He could not express adequately enough what an abhorrence it had been to him.

With a father who hated the ground he walked on, a mother who chose to pretend her son was something he was not, a sister who seemed to want nothing to do with him for one reason or another and a brother who was never there for him when he needed him, he had been left all alone.

Yes, there had been Hiro and Suguru and even Tatsuha, but it was not the same. Tatsuha was just his big brother’s partner and Hiro and Suguru were his friends.

But, no, that wasn’t quite accurate, he decided.

When it came right down to it, they were not just his friends. Having known one another their entire lives and being in a band together, Hiro and Suguru were a pseudo-family in a way, but still, it was not quite the same. Being acknowledged by his friends was one thing, but being accepted by your parents was something else altogether and it was that recognition that he had craved though had never received.

That despair of being all alone in the world had sent him into a downward spiral.  It was like that patch of black ice on the road in the middle of winter.  Even though you could not see it, you knew it was out there somewhere.  It did not matter how careful you were, for when you find it there was nothing you could do to stop your vehicle from careening out of control.  All you could do was go alone for the ride and hope that when you stopped you could walk away with only minor cuts and bruises.

In his depression, he’d had thoughts of just ending it. Nobody would miss him anyway. His father never acknowledged his existence. His mother would never miss something she never wanted to know existed in the first place. Maiko had been so caught up in her own little world that she might as well have been an only child. Ryuichi was never around in the first place so what he did not know would not hurt him. As for Bad Luck, the guys could always find a new singer. It happened all the time. Bands replaced members like normal people changed their clothes.

Then Kizou had entered the picture. He had walked into that disgusting, cockroach infested, and urine-smelling bathroom in that seedy bar with his ever-present shadow at his side and offered to turn his frown upside down.

When he entered Kizou’s world, though he had been surrounded by the prostitutes, junkies and countless other vagabonds that Kizou employed, he had still felt that desolate despair and it slowly continued to eat away at him.  So he tried filling that hole with whatever he could.  He polluted his body with those experimental drugs Kizou continuously offered him.  Though Kizou forbid it, he’d even started drinking.  Though Kizou and Taki were the only ones he had ever actually slept with in that house, he had given out and accepted “party favors” from countless others.  It was all so that he could forget that he was nothing more than a good for nothing piece of shit.

The more the sex, the drugs and the alcohol failed to make him forget, the more the hole within him widened and the more aggressive his usage became. It would have killed him eventually. He could say that with absolute certainty. The sad part was that back then he would not have minded. He would have welcomed Death with open arms.

All that changed one night when a tall, mysterious blond haired, blond eyed writer decided to go for a walk through the park to clear his head. His whole life turned around the night he met Eiri. Even if their one night together had remained just that, Shuichi knew he would not have minded. Like a person who had been blind since birth being given the miracle of sight, that brief rendezvous had opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

Today he had a wonderful life. He had a husband who worshipped the ground he walked on, a beautiful son; he was carrying his husband’s twins and his dream of being a professional singer had come true when Tohma had honored the contract Bad Luck had won from L8r Records at the Battle of the Bands. He finally had a relationship with his sister Maiko and he had a father who was always there for him and who loved him no matter who or what he was.

As painful as Kizou’s words had been on that day, the man had actually done him a favor and for that he would be forever grateful.

 

* * *

 

**NG Productions Executive Offices**

As the ringing continued, Tohma swiveled his chair around. He took in the view of his city spread out before him. It was indeed a remarkable sight. The metal and glass landscape seemed to stretch for as far as the eye could see.

He was not sure how he felt about Shuichi agreeing to have a paternity test done. It could be argued that this was the only option they had to get Nami Mataguchi off their backs once and for all, but anybody who knew anything about terrorist negotiations knew that people like that were never going to be satisfied. Besides, who said that Nami Mataguchi would be satisfied with the results? What if it was discovered that Taki Aizawa was indeed little Takanori’s biological father? There was no way Nami Mataguchi would accept that. She would be out there screaming about conspiracies. People like her were not satisfied unless they were proven to be right, whether she was or not. Then there was the opposite. What if her claims were proven to be true? What if Shuichi was wrong and Taki Aizawa did not father little Takanori like she has been insinuating ever since Eiri and Shuichi’s relationship was exposed? There was no way she would stop there. With the proof to back up what she has been saying all along in her hand, her inflated ego would go on the rampage.

_“If they were hiding something like this, then what else are they hiding?”_

She would pick apart Eiri and Shuichi’s relationship. Whether they had anything to hide or not, even the most in love couple could not stand up against the constant barrage of attacks from the media. He had seen it enough times to know.

What was there to stop her from pressing an issue she had only insinuated at once over a year ago?

_“It’s clear what the truth is, Mr. Seguchi.  Why don’t you just admit it?  Ryuichi Sakuma and Shuichi Shindou’s relationship is more than just that of mere siblings, isn’t that true?”_

They were lucky that Shuichi had not pressed the issue. He was not sure what they would have told the young singer.

But if Nami Mataguchi was proven correct in her assumptions about little Takanori, then…

Little Takanori was only two years old, so all this fighting over who actually fathered him was something that would not truly affect him. Shuichi himself had told him not long after little Takanori was born that he would make sure that his son grew up knowing the truth. But if the truth came out that Ryuichi was actually Shuichi’s biological father and that his mother was locked up in a psychiatric center for the mentally insane because he’d tried to kill himself while still pregnant with Shuichi before Ryuichi could actually speak to Shuichi first…all hell would break loose.

There was a click and then a masculine voice broke into the silence. “Yes. This is Takashi Iba.”

Tohma spun his chair back around and grabbed the receiver. “Yes, hello. This is Seguchi from NG Productions.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Seguchi. Hello, sir.”

“I do apologize for calling you so early, Mr. Iba, but if you do not mind I would like to get right down to business.”

“Of course, sir,” Takashi replied. “It’s no problem at all. What can I do for you?”

“I have an artist here at NG Productions who would like to have a paternity test done.  Can you explain a little on how this is done?”  Though he was not mentioning any names, he had a feeling that Takashi Iba knew to whom he was referring.  Unless he had been living under a rock, everyone in Japan knew all about the challenge Nami Mataguchi issued.  The Wicked Bitch of the East was probably gloating right now over her success.  Oh, how he wished he could have used his connections to silence her.  Unfortunately, that would have caused more harm than good.

“O-of course, sir. Well,” Takashi continued sounding a little nervous, “in a standard DNA paternity test, the tested parties include a child, the alleged father, and the mother. It runs about 45070 yen. We start the testing process with a 9500 yen non-refundable partial payment.”

With a nod, Tohma jotted down some quick notes.

“The mother‘s participation helps to exclude half of the child‘s DNA, leaving the other half for comparison with the alleged father‘s DNA,” the man continued. “However, we can perform a paternity test without the mother‘s participation. Though this involves additional analysis, there is not any additional charge.”

Good to know.

“Either way, the results are equally conclusive.” The man cleared his throat. “We also can test additional children or alleged fathers if needed, though there is an additional 18595 yen fee for each additional tested party.”

Tohma hoped that service would not be needed, though knowing what little he knew about Shuichi’s past, he had a feeling his hopes might just be dashed. This was one time he hoped he was wrong.

“Motherless tests are guaranteed to have at least a 99.9% probability of paternity for inclusions and 100% for exclusions.”

Good. That way it would be easy to include or exclude Taki Aizawa as the father of little Takanori Uesugi. “Now, how would you go about getting a DNA sample for testing?”

“Usually, we use the painless buccal-”

“That is…?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What we do is swab the inside of the cheek to collect samples.”

Ah. Jut like those police dramas. Tohma frowned. There was one problem with that method. “And if the alleged father is deceased?”

“Oh, well, there are several options in that case. If there is a pathology or autopsy sample from the hospital or morgue from the deceased alleged father then that could be used. If not, then we can collect samples from one or both of the deceased alleged father’s parents. If they are not available, then we can test multiple ‘first degree’ relatives of the deceased. This is when we collect samples from at least three known biological relatives of the deceased.”

“Good. Good. That should be simple enough.” Hopefully. Truthfully, he was not sure how the Aizawas would feel about this whole affair. Taki Aizawa had been an only child and his parents had only been able to move passed their son’s death because they had believed that he had left an heir behind. Tohma was not sure what this would do to the grieving Aizawas if it were discovered that their grandson was not really their son’s child.

“I am taking it that the alleged father is deceased?”

“Yes, he is. He was in a car accident not long after discovering that he was to be a father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but as I said, we have several other options available if needed.”

“Hm. How long would it take for the results to come in?”

“You will receive the results within three days time.”

“That fast?”

“Yes, sir.”

With his pen gripped in his hand and the phone held to his ear with the other, Tohma reclined in the leather chair behind his desk in a smooth motion. He beat the pen against the desktop rhythmically. “And I do not have to remind you that this is of the utmost confidential.”

“Of course, not, sir. I trust all of my employees whole heartedly.”

“Good. I would not like any leaks to--impair our relationship. You will fax all the necessary paperwork to me here at NG?”

“Y-yes, sir. Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Returning the handset to the cradle, Tohma set his pen down and sitting back, steeples his fingers under his chin.

What a mess.

 

* * *

 

**In Route to the Uesugi-Sakuma Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

What the hell had possessed him to agree to allow his pregnant husband to travel alone to visit his ex-Yakuza-lover? It was one of the stupidest decisions that he ever made--allowing Shuichi to move out for several months being the other asinine choice he ever made.

His regret over allowing Shuichi to go visit Kizou in Kita had nothing to do with the fact that the two of them used to be lovers. What was there to be jealous of? Shuichi chose him over that man didn’t he? No, the problem was the man was as dangerous as a starving lion at a buffet. He was a mob boss guilty of ordering the deaths of countless people, drug trafficking, weapons possession, smuggling, dealing in prostitution and then there were his so-called “legitimate” business that included gambling halls, banks, restaurants and apartment complexes to name a few. He has been under investigation by the PSIA for years. Just because the Public Safety Intelligence Agency has never been able to find any solid evidence to convict the man did not mean anything.

Having any sort of association with someone like Kizou was dangerous, but what if what Shuichi believed was true? What if Kizou was indeed the biological father of little Takanori?

Eiri shook his head. No. That was impossible. It had to be.

_“Back off,” Taki barked. He was glad his voice did not betray how terrified he actually was of this dude. Inside he was trembling like a leaf. “If he's pregnant I have the right to know!”_

_Oh, God! I do not do this, Shuichi silently begged._

_“If he's far enough along that he's thinking of getting an abortion, than that rules you out as the father, Romance Man,” he snapped, poking a finger into Eiri's chest. He was gaining more confidence as he went along._

_Shuichi's head snapped up and he paled, this time for a different reason. What? Oh gods no. His stomach churned. This was not happening. Shuichi had always known, but he had not wanted to face the truth._

_Taki smirked smugly at the stunned writer. “And ever since Kizou had testicular cancer, Man Land just has not been the same,” he pouted._

Eiri slowed to a stop at a red light.

When that ass from ASK made such a presumptuous statement, everyone had believed him. They all just assumed that Kizou was unable to have children, but what if they leapt to the wrong conclusion? If Eiri was to believe Shuichi’s claim that they were the only two other than him who he had ever slept with, then by a process of elimination, if it wasn’t Taki then Kizou had to be little Takanori’s biological father.

He was not sure he particularly cared about that fact.

A squeal had him looking into the rearview mirror. He smiled at the sight of his son who was strapped into his booster seat behind him.

Well, in the end it did not really matter who fathered little Takanori because…

_“I--don’t--care. I’m not going to get a paternity test done just to prove who fathered my son. You are his father and that is all that matters.”_

Still…

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

…it did not mean he had to like the idea of his baka, his pregnant baka mind you, traveling all alone to Kyoto. He knew he should have gone with him, but all Shuichi had to do was give him that look and he found himself caving in to all of Shuichi’s whims.

When the light turned, green, he blew through the intersection.

That still did not mean that he was jealous.

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

**The Trinity Offices - Setagaya, Tokyo**

At one time, the idea of a true intersexed person was thought to be impossible. It was laughable to think that a person could be born with perfect, fully functioning male as well as female parts. Thanks to a one-hundred and fifty year old manuscript that was found in the bottom of a steamer trunk in a forgotten corner in the attic of some elderly woman’s house somewhere in Upstate New York, what used to be nothing more than a fantastical element in stories was now part of reality.

Oh how she wished that old woman had tossed her historical find into the trash.

You could call them by whatever name you preferred, but a Neutral by any other name was still going to be nothing more than the immorally sinful, wicked creatures that it was. Though their existence had still to be acknowledged by Islamic nations as well as several Christian sects, the existence of the Neutrals fast become a natural part of society, for some people anyway. For others like her, they knew the truth hidden behind the deceitful lies.

She would be the first to admit that she may have a slight problem with seeing the so-called “third sex” as anything more than an abomination and a plight upon the world.  They were what was wrong with the world today.  If Neutrals were eliminated, so many of the problems that corrupted this planet would be alleviated.  How could they be considered anything close to Man’s equal?  There was no way around it.  It was obvious that God had placed his trust in the wrong people when these--these…things were conceived into this world.

Her phone buzzed.

“Yes?”

“Ms. Mataguchi,” her secretary’s soft voice called over the speakerphone. “There is a Ms. Usami on the line for you?”

“Thanks, Kana.” Nami Mataguchi picked up the receiver. Her hand hovered over the button flashing red. It was trembling. Whether it from excitement over the fact that her challenge had actually been accepted or if it was due to something else she was not sure. Straightening her back, she cleared her throat. Taking a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face even though she knew the caller would not be able to see it. “Hello Ms. Usami,” she said cheerfully into phone. “I take it you heard the good news?”

 

* * *

 

**Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

She replaced the handset into its cradle.

Finally all of her hard work was coming to fruition. This was something she has been striving for for the past three years. She would prove what a fallacious slanderer Shuichi Shindou was. That man--No, he was not a man. He was a thing. A mutation. A misuse of flesh and blood. A waste of space. He was no more than the toxins that polluted the air they breathed, the land they walked and the water they drank. He was something that should never have been given human life. It did not matter what it took or how long, she always gets what she wanted. This was not going to be any different.

Her grip around the phone tightened.

“Ayaka honey?”

The contorted harsh lines smooth out. “Yes, Mother,” she called out over her shoulder.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

With a flourish of her brown skirt, Ayaka turned to greet her mother; an aging woman in her mid-sixties that despite the steel gray hair secured atop her head in a traditional Japanese bun and the wrinkles was still beautiful.

“Have you seen your father?”

“I believe he went to visit Mr. Uesugi.”

Her mother clucked her tongue in disappointment. “Those men,” she breathed heavily. “Gossiping like a couple of women.”

Ayaka giggled.

Her mother retreated down the hallway towards the kitchen.

As soon as her mother vanished through the swinging door, the smile vanished from Ayaka’s face. Glancing over her shoulder at the now silent phone, she fisted her hands into tight balls of fury. Things would continue as planned. There was no doubt in her mind. In the off chance that something unexpected arose, there were always her contingency plans. One way or another, she would get what she wanted.

She reached into the breast pocket of her white blouse and pulled out a small photograph not was much larger than the width of her hand. Her face softened as she gazed at the boy in the picture who had his arm around her tiny shoulders and a big goofy grin on his face. Her finger traced his blond hair.

“I can wait no longer…Eiri.”

 

* * *

 

**Aizawa Residence - Tokyo, Japan**

It’s been an hour. That was how long Tohma has sat behind the wheel of his car in front of the childhood home of Taki Aizawa where his parents still resided. Apparently, after the death of his son, Taki’s father wanted to move. The memories of his only son who lost his life when he stepped into the street directly into the path of an oncoming car had been too much for him to bear, but the mother would not hear of it. So they had remained in the house where they had lived with their only child where they were sure to forever remember him.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. It was the only indication that hinted that he was not fully in control.

How was he supposed to ask for a sample of their deceased son’s DNA in order to prove that he was indeed the one who fathered little Takanori? What if they consented and the results were that their grandson was not their grandson as they had been lead to believe these past two and half years. It would be a devastating blow.

Tohma took a deep breath to clam the raging emotions within him.

It had to be done. That DNA sample was a necessity. One way or another he had to obtain it.

His decision made, he yanked his keys out of the ignition and grabbed his cellphone from its resting place in the cup holder. Opening the car door, he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The intense summer heat greeted him immediately. Sweat glistened in the bright summer sun along his forehead. Closing the car door behind him, he used the buttons on his key fob to set the car locks. A double beep echoed into the quiet neighborhood when he set the car alarm. With his phone safely tucked into the inner pocket of his suit coat and his keys pocketed, he straightened the collar of his suit coat before walking up to the gate. He rang the buzzer.

It did not take long before the door creaked open. A woman who looked remarkably like Taki Aizawa studied him from the safety of her shaded stoop. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Aizawa?” he questioned.

“Yes,” she answered uncertainly.

“Ma’am, I’m Tohma Seguchi.”

Her dark eyes brightened in instant recognition. “Oh, yes, sir, Mr. Seguchi. What can I do for you?”

“Is your husband at home?”

“Yes he is.” A mask on confusion slid over her face.

“Do the both of you have a minute? There is something I need to speak with the two of you about.”

She looked hesitant. “What is this about?” she asked in suspicion.

“Your son.”

 

* * *

 

**Kyoto, Japan**

It happened when he was twenty-eight, a full fifteen years before Kizou would meet Shuichi Shindou.

It started as an ache in his abdomen, but because this happened so often, he thought nothing more about it. He figured that if he ignored it, it would go away as it usually did and within a day, the pain in his belly indeed vanished. Then not long after, he started to grow nauseous. Again, he ignored the symptoms. Like the belly ache, being nauseous was not anything new, especially if he was forced to be awake particularly early in the morning when he was used to sleeping in until sometime mid-afternoon. When he started vomiting, he chalked it up to something he’d eaten. It would not be the first time. At the same time, he’d began noticing a mild pain in his scrotal area, but it was not until Hasumi was giving him a full body massage one night that he realized just how serious these minor health issues actually were.

A week later, he was diagnosed with stage one seminomas testicular cancer.

After discussing the pros and cons of each, he opted to have surgery and then a round of radiation. However, according to his doctor, statistically he would have an eight-two percent chance of fathering children, it was better to be safe then sorry, so he took his doctor’s advice and stored some of his sperm at a sperm bank beforehand.

_“Having an orchiectomy rarely interferes with male sexual function or fertility; the remaining testicle produces enough sperm and hormones for normal sexual activities and reproduction.”_

Though he was warned that radiation therapy does interfere with the production of sperm.

_“But you don’t need to worry. Most patients are able to recover fertility after one or two years. You should be_ **  
**

“Should” was the key word here.

Two months later, surgery removed the cancerous growth and several rounds of radiation starting a week after that had ensured that what remained of the cancer cells were eliminated.

It was not long afterwards that he was pronounced cancer free, a complete remission.

But not everything had been a success. It seemed as if the eighteen percent failure rate had overpowered the eight-two percent success rate at being able to father children, for even five years after undergoing treatment for testicular cancer, Hasumi was still not pregnant.

Discouraged, she insisted he go see his doctor and after an initial examination and a semen analysis, it was determined that he had less than 12.5 million sperm per milliliter, meaning he had a very low sperm count. Only a quarter of men in his position are able to impregnate their partners. It was a devastating blow to the already disheartened couple. Ultrasounds, testicular biopsies, blood and genetic tests could have been performed to discover the underlining cause, but it was obvious what had hampered his ability to impregnate his wife: the radiation therapy he underwent when he had testicular cancer.

The only option opened to them at that point was in vitro fertilization.

Another set back occurred when the sperm bank where he stored his sperm before he underwent treatment had been misplaced. It might have been gone, but they did not allow that to stop them from having a child.

…Five tries later, there was still no baby.  Disheartened and disillusioned and on the verge of giving up, he was able to convince Hasumi to give it one last try, but it was all for naught.  Once again, the procedure failed.  Depressed and convinced that if she stayed with him, she would never be able to have a child, Hasumi filed for divorce.  Ironically enough, it was five years to the day he was diagnosed with stage one seminomas testicular cancer.

Ten years later, he met Shuichi Shindou.

When he discovered that Shuichi was pregnant, what he would not have given for the child to be his! God knew how much he has wanted a child. He wanted it more than anything else. When he and Hasumi were trying to have a baby, he even went so far as to make a deal with God. If He could bless them with a child, he would retire from this lifestyle and become an honest Japanese citizen. Alas, it was not to be. After his wife left, he’d had his share of lovers, both female as well as the odd neutral, and even though they’d never used any kind of protection, he had never impregnated any of his partners.

It came down to one thing: he was unable to have children. There was no other explanation. According to his doctor and going by the results of the numerous tests he had been subjected to, though low in number, he did indeed have eager little soldiers ready for deployment. But if that were the case, then why hadn’t his wife become pregnant? Why would a foolproof procedure like in vitro fail five times in a row? No, it was obvious what the problem was. No matter what the doctors and their tests claimed, he just could not become a father. Therefore, no matter how much he wanted it, it just was not possible.

The child Shuichi was carrying may not have been his, but instead of humiliating Shuichi as he did that day, he could have allowed Shuichi and the child to remain with him. He could have adopted the child as his own, pretended, much like that Eiri Yuki person did, but he knew that was not going to work. As much as Shuichi cared for him, it was obvious that the boy was head over heels in love for his new lover. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to drag another innocent child into this seedy underbelly of society.

It was for the best.

Distantly he was aware of the phone ringing, but his mind was elsewhere. Besides, Narata knew that unless it was an emergency, he was not to be disturbed.

He reached out for the picture frame on the nightstand just as a streak of sunlight found an opening in the blinds closed over the window above his bed. It reflected off the protective glass shield, veiling the image.

When there was a polite rap on his door, he scowled.

“Boss,” came the unexpected voice. “Phone call from Hong Kong, sir. They said it’s urgent.”

Of course it was. When wasn’t it?

Growling lightly, he flipped over onto his back and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Boss?”

Tossing back the covers, he sat up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, padded naked to his dresser where he threw on a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt.

Narata raised his hand to knock again when the door opened forcefully.

“This had better be good,” Kizou growled as he stalked bare foot through the house to his office.

Sweating, Narata followed him.

 

* * *

 

**Uesugi-Sakuma Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

**  
**With the steaming cup of tea clasped between his hands, Ryuichi Sakuma stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the door shut behind him.  Seating himself on the railing, he raised the cup to his lips.  The steam rising from the cup eclipsed his face.  He breathed in the sweet aroma of the pomegranate black tea.  The hot liquid trickled down his throat as he took a tentative sip.

_“You going to tell him?”_

_Ryuichi shook his head. “No.”_

_“But he’s his-!”_

_“I know.”_

_Tatsuha sighed._

_“He gave up his rights…to our son…when he…” Ryuichi’s throat closed over. “When he tried to…”_

Tatsuha was right.  Tatsuha was always right.

_“You hate him. I get it.”_

_“Do you?” Ryuichi rounded on his long time lover. “Do you really?”_

_Tatsuha chose to ignore that. “He’s the mother of your son!” he protested._

_“Yeah, the son he very nearly killed,” Ryuichi shot back._

Bringing a leg up, he leaned back against the side of the building and took in the sight of the city.

_“We had one night. That’s it.”_

_“Yeah, but that one night linked the two of you together for the rest of your lives,” Tatsuha reminded his lover._

_Ryuichi said nothing._

_“Whether you like it or not, Ryuichi Sakuma, Yuki Kitazawa is going to a part of your life till the day you die because he is the mother of your son. You don’t have to like him. Nobody’s saying you have to. You‘re going to have to just grin and bear and grow the fuck up.”_

He just did not know what to do.

_“…Are you going to tell him the truth? It’s not like there’s anything keeping you from telling him,” Tatsuha pushed into the silence. “Not anymore. Not like there was.”_

Ryuichi dropped his head back and stared up at the clear summer sky.

 

* * *

_  
_

* * *

he couple sat in stunned silence in the living room of the house where they had raised their now deceased son.

“Mr. Seguchi…” Mrs. Aizawa spoke softly. She was unsure as to why she had spoken for she was unsure of what to say. Nothing they were just told made any sense. No matter how she tried to manipulate it in her head, she could not make heads or tails out of any of it. “Just…what are you saying?”

On the sofa across from them sat Tohma Seguchi, appearing somber and regretful. When he spoke, his voice was soft. His hands were clasped in his lap. “I am truly sorry for having to-”

“I had a feeling,” Mr. Aizawa spoke up suddenly.

His wife turned towards him. “Masato?”

Masato Aizawa raised his head. He stared directly into the light eyes of the man sitting before him. “Alright. Whatever you need.”

His wife shot to her feet. “Masato,” she cried in disbelief. How could he believe the word of some man they did not even know? She did not care who Tohma Seguchi thought he was and she did not care. How dare this man waltz into her home and make such outrageous claims?

Tohma inclined his head in gratitude. “Thank you. I know it cannot be easy.”

“Masato!” Now she was fuming. “How can you-?”

“Oharu.” Masato turned towards her. It was said softly.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Oharu stalked out of the room in a huff. As soon as she was out of earshot of her husband and their guest, she burst into tears. She muffled her sobs into her apron.

Masato sighed. He was not angry with her at her outburst. How could he be? Being told that their only son’s only child may not be their grandchild was not an easy statement to hear. What he wanted the least was it to turn out to be true. But what if it was? “Just…tell us when and where.”

“Thank you,” Tohma said softly as guilt swirled within him.

 

* * *

 

**Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

Started by Kizou after his father died in a car accident when he was a second year in middle school, the Black Dragons started out as nothing more then a group of friends who could not seem to keep out of trouble. Back then “trouble” meant skipping class, talking back to the teachers and other administrative officials, breaking the strict school rules and policies, getting into fights (both on campus and off), stealing women’s purses and men’s wallets. It naturally snowballed from there. Little by little, they expanded their empire, taking out one group after another and absorbing their members into their own. They started dabbling in narcotics and drug trafficking, smuggling of illegal weapons and prostitution. Then there were the various legitimate businesses. There was not anything in Kyoto that the Black Dragons did not have their hands in in some fashion. What at one point had been nothing more than a group of juvenile delinquents had swiftly become a force to be reckoned with.

Like all of the various Yakuza groups though, the name “Black Dragons” was only a pseudonym. The group’s real name was known to only its innermost circle. Most of the members of the Black Dragons themselves were unaware of what the group’s real name was.

But he knew.  Oh, yes, he did.  Shuichi Shindou knew many of the Black Dragon’s secrets.  When dealing with the mob, they sometimes had a habit of forgetting that their little sex kitten had a brain in his head.  Like when there was a child in the room, you had to be careful about what came out of your mouth.  Otherwise, things best left in the shadows came spiraling out into the light of day.  Out of the mouths of babes, as the saying went.  Many of the secrets that he was privy to could bring down Kizou’s little band of misfits in a single, swift stroke.  What the PSIA wouldn’t give to get inside his head.  If only they knew. 

The Black Dragons have been under investigation for many years now by various agencies around the world, including the Public Security Intelligence Agency here in Japan as well as Interpol and the FBI in America.  All of the countless investigations over the years have proven to be fruitless ventures though.  They could dig and dig and dig until their hands were red, raw, and bleeding, but they would never find anything to back up their suspicions because Kizou made sure there was no proof.  He was no imbecile.  All the agencies investigating the Black Dragons have nothing to go on but their knowledge that you did not become part of the Yakuza family by helping little old ladies across the street, though the Black Dragons were known for that as well.  Without evidence to back up the charges, a Grand Jury was not going to indict a suspect.

Shuichi rounded the corner and came to a halt.

Before him, standing proudly at the top of the hill like a sentry guarding over the city was what had once upon a time been a Buddhist Temple, but that had been over half a century ago. For reasons that were still unclear, the Temple was abandoned virtually overnight not long after it’s founding. It’d sat abandoned on the outskirts of the city until Kizou purchased it about twenty years ago. It had fallen into serious disrepair and had cost close to a fortune to bring it back to its state of glory. Some tried to talk him into tearing the old Temple down. It would cost less to rebuild from scratch. Others tried to talk him into buying a house somewhere else, for fear of the grounds being cursed, but Kizou wouldn’t hear of it. So a year after he purchased it, Kizou was finally able to move into the converted ex-Temple. Ironically, it was not long afterwards that Kizou was diagnosed with stage one seminomas cancer

Shuichi ghosted his hands over his belly. He could not remember a time when he was more nervous. He could only imagine the look on Kizou’s face when he found the lover he had forcibly kicked out two years earlier on his doorstep, pregnant.

What had been an attempt at lightning the mood fell flat.

Taking a deep breath, he fixed the strap of his black messenger bag and took one tentative step forward and then another and another.

 

* * *

 

**Ryugan Temple - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

The phone’s shrill ring continued to echo down the hall.

“Can you get that dear? My hands are full of batter.” An older woman’s voice emanated through the still house.

“Yes, Mama,” replied a younger sounding female voice. Stepping out of the kitchen where she and her mother were baking cookies, Ayaka was drying her hands with a white kitchen towel as she marched purposefully down the hall towards the phone. She draped the towel over her shoulder and picked up the phone mid-ring. “Hello, Usami residence. This is Ayaka speaking.”

There was silence. Then a male voice spoke, “Oh! I’m sorry. Wrong number.”

Ayaka pulled the phone away from her ear and stared down at the receiver when she was greeted with the dial tone. “O-kay.”

“Who was it?” her mother called from the kitchen.

“Nobody Mama. Wrong number.” Replacing the receiver in its cradle, Ayaka yanked the towel off her shoulder and returned to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

**Location Unknown**

He was alone in a room packed to the ceiling with various electronic equipment. It would remind an outsider of a hoarder’s house. There was a narrow path that cut through the clutter (or “crap” as his boss put it) that led from the door to the workstation. Trying to maneuver your way through the rest of the cramped office was like trying to get into Jakarta, Indonesia in a timely manner: impossible (1). The U-shaped desk before him was covered with half a dozen computers and an assortment of other knick-knacks. Each computer monitor showed something different: some with documents, others with formulas. Sitting behind the desk was a man in his early thirties with dyed blond hair that tickled the collar of his plaid button down shirt. A silver hands-free headset was secured around his ear. This left both of his hands free to do what he did best. His dark eyes sparkled from behind a pair of black rimmed glasses.

“Found you,” he whispered with a pleased smirk.

 

* * *

 

**Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Ryuichi heard the distant sounds emanating from the kitchen. The clinking of glasses. The clattering of dishes. The rattling of silverware. The banging of pots and pans. The heavy footsteps on the tiled floor. The opening and closing of cupboards. The cacophony of noises dimmed as he strolled down the hall away from the kitchen to the master bedroom. The noise dimmed even more when he shut the bedroom door behind him. Rounding the bed and skirting the dresser, he stopped before the closet door. Sliding the pocket door into the wall, he stepped into the dimly light space and slid the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed him. Striding forward cautiously, he reached out blindly for the pull string. Finding it after some fishing, he yanked on it. Immediately the closet was flooded with light.

Hidden on the top shelf in the back of the closet, concealed beneath assorted articles of clothing was a shoebox. Just before he unearthed it, he glanced over his shoulder and listened attentively. It was muted, but he could still hear Tatsuha in the kitchen.

Good.

Pulling the box out of its hiding spot, he settled on the floor with it on his lap.

The shoebox was a rather large one. Once upon a time, it held a pair of black snowboard boots, which had since been misplaced. He was not sure what happened to them. A month before he (and the rest of L8r Records) discovered Yuki was pregnant with Shuichi, the executives at L8r Records sent him, Tohma and Noriko to Happo One--that is said to be the jewel among Hakuba Valley’s five skiing resorts--on a promotional venture. He’d purchased the boots at some shoe store--that has since gone out of business--a week before the trip. By the time he returned home from Happo, the boots were gone. Oh, well. No big loss. He hadn’t particularly cared for the boots anyway. Even though they had been a size too large, they had pinched his feet something fierce. Their shoebox had come in handy since, though it was more tape then cardboard now. Maybe it was time for a new one. If Tatsuha had his way, he would toss the box, as well as its contents, into the trash.

Lifting the lid off the shoebox, he set it on the hardwood floor behind him. Reaching inside the shoebox, what he pulled out first turned out to be a photograph.

In the background was a dirty brick building with someone’s version of artistic freedom covering its façade. Leaning against the driver’s side door of a black Mustang with arms crossed over a bare chest, was a young man who appeared to be at least twenty years old. In actuality, this twenty year old had been more like sixteen around the time the photo was taken. His jean-clad legs were stretched out before him. His ankles were crossed. Smiling smugly into the camera, his mused black hair was a glint with golden highlights. The yellow color contrasted sharply against the natural darkness of his hair. And maybe it was his bias, but there seemed to be a sinister gleam in those violet eyes.

The photograph had been taken somewhere in New York City the summer before the two of them met backstage after one of Nittle Grasper’s concerts at Radio City Music Hall. That brief encounter would turn out to be the catalyst that would change both of their lives.

Nittle Grasper had quickly gained quite a name for itself in North America thanks to several of their songs being featured in a popular anime. While they were virtual unknowns to the mainstream populace, they had quickly become an underground sensation. Their manager at the time had decided to cash in on their rising popularity by agreeing to a series of concerts at a series of conventions around the United States and Canada. It was at the Ani-Con in New York City where he met Yuki for the first time.

Yuki confessed later that he had not even known what a “Nittle Grasper” was when he bought the tickets to the Anime Convention. He hadn’t had any idea what a “manga” or what an “anime” was either. Just because he was Japanese did not mean anything. He had been born and raised in America just as his parents and grandparents had been before him. His girlfriend was the huge anime fan he claimed. She was the one who pressured him into buying the tickets. The night before Nittle Grasper was to take the stage as part of the opening ceremonies, though, he found out she had been cheating on him with his best friend. Instead of dumping her right then and there, he decided to go to the concert anyway. He just forgot to mention to his girlfriend that she was no longer coming with him. At the concert hall, he simply gave his extra ticket away to some old man who had been looking for a ticket for his granddaughter.

It was not until Nittle Grasper walked on stage did Yuki start to understand his girlfriend’s obsession. His began the moment he laid eyes on Ryuichi Sakuma for the very first time.

Yuki said he’d been determined to get backstage to meet him, but with the heavy security, he thought it would be an impossible fete, but would chance it anyway. Even if he were caught, it would be better than spending the rest of his life wondering “what if”. Ryuichi had not been able to fault that logic, even today. As it turned out, there had been virtually no security, making it easy for Yuki to slip backstage. No one had given him so much as a second glance amidst the chaos.

From the very beginning, he told Tatsuha that while Cupid’s arrow hit its mark with Yuki, the god of love had missed him. The arrow had gone right over his head. Looking back as the man he was now and knowing what occurred because of their brief rendezvous, he did not want to believe that he’d had any sort of special feelings for Yuki. How could he? The man was clearly suffering from some psychosis. Why else would he threaten to jump if Ryuichi did not promise right then and there that they could be a family?

_“Love me! Ryu! Love me!”_

Those words continued to echo in Ryuichi’s head to this day, haunting him.  How could he love someone like that?  How could he have any sort of feelings for someone like that?  For years, he even succeeded in convincing himself that his attraction to Yuki had been nothing but purely physical.  Oh, how he wished that were the case.  He would like nothing more than to believe that he felt nothing but contempt for Yuki Kitazawa, but if he wanted to be completely open and honest with himself, he would have to admit that was not accurate.  It was because he _had_ fallen in love with a boy three years his senior that he found himself feeling such hatred towards him now.

After Nittle Grasper’s set at the opening ceremonies at the Ani-Con, he’d walked off stage with Tohma and Noriko in tow and there he was, leaning casually against the far wall and trying not to look nervous, trying to act as if he belonged. There’d been something about this mysterious boy that had drawn him in. Then, as if sensing eyes on him, the boy had raised his head. Over the sea of bodies, their eyes met. It was only for a second, but it seemed to last for an eternity. He’d forgotten who he was, where he was, everything and everyone except for the owner of those incredible violet eyes, eyes that their son had inherited. They were what would do him in. But at this particular encounter, their security personnel, who appeared literally from out of nowhere Yuki said later, swept him, Tohma and Noriko out of the building before he had the opportunity to speak to the boy with the beautiful eyes. When he’d glanced back, the boy was nowhere to be seen, lost amidst the anarchy. And that was that. He and the others had been pushed into their limo and driven to the airport where they caught a flight back to Japan. He’d thought he would never see that handsome older boy again.

How wrong he had been.

Ryuichi sighed heavily. Falling backwards, he draped an arm over his brow and stared unblinkingly up at the ceiling with the photograph still clasped in his hand.

It should have been a warning sign. Looking back now, seeing Yuki backstage after their concert at Zepp Tokyo here in Japan mere weeks later should have forced him to slam on his brakes. It didn’t though. He’d been too astonished to see him. To realize that the boy with the violet eyes he’d seen back in New York City was more than just a figment of his imagination had blown whatever misgivings might have been there out of his mind.

Lifting his hand, he stared at Yuki who was smiling down at him.

_“Whether you like it or not, Ryuichi Sakuma, Yuki Kitazawa is going to a part of your life till the day you die because he is the mother of your son. You don’t have to like him. Nobody’s saying you have to. You‘re going to have to just grin and bear it and grow the fuck up."_

Tatsuha was right.

Once upon a time he may have had feelings for Yuki and even though that all changed in an instant when Yuki threatened to jump from the roof of L8r Records, which would have killed not only him but the child he was carrying, Yuki Kitazawa was still Shuichi’s mother.

“Dammit,” he cursed with a hiss.

He was startled out of his musing by a sudden buzzing that echoed throughout the condominium.

“Ryu,” though muffled, Tatsuha’s voice still reached to where he was hiding, “Eiri’s here!”

Sitting up, Ryuichi stared down at the photograph in his hand as he heard the sound of muffled voices.

 

* * *

 

**TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo, Japan**

The high back, black leather office chair squeaked as Chishin reclined backwards behind his cinnamon and slate L-shaped desk in the executive office of the President of TCN Network. He heaved a tired sigh. Swiveling his chair around, he stared out the floor to ceiling, two way, mirrored window that overlooked the bustling street below.

Idiot. That was what was going through his mind over and over again.

Agreeing to Nami’s request last night was the biggest mistake he’s made since taking over the floundering Christian Network. When she threatened to take her services elsewhere unless he complied, he should have just let her. It was not the task of this network to promote bigotry, prejudice or hatred of any kind. The mission of The Christian Network was to communicate the teachings and the beauty of the Christian faith and to help people grow in their love and understanding of God and His infinite mercy (2). For wasn’t it written in Leviticus 19:18? “Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself”? Yes, it was definitely a mistake to continue to be manhandled like a marionette.

Nami Mataguchi’s abhorrence of the Neutrals as well as her dedication to slandering Shuichi Shindou and Eiri Yuki’s good names went against everything this station stood for.

A buzz sounded behind him.

Chishin swung his chair around. “Yes,” he called over the intercom.

“Sir, there is an Isoroku Tokudaiji on the phone for you,” replied his secretary’s voice.

That was quick, he thought. Aloud he said, “Thank you.” Picking up the phone, he pressed the flashing red button. “Hello! Isoro?”

“Hey, Chishin,” came the tired sounding masculine voice over the line.

He met Isoroku Tokudaiji back in high school through a mutual friend. “You sound tired.”

A yawn was his answer. “Seeing as I’ve been up since, uhm, five yesterday morning, tired is an understatement, but it was worth the lack of sleep-”

“You found something,” Chishin interrupted. His excitement was mounting.

“That I did.”

Mentally cheering and quite literally at the edge of his seat, Chishin’s grip on the phone tightened. “And?” he prodded.

“What I used was a-well, that doesn’t matter,” Isoroku interrupted himself.  “Anyway,” he continued without a pause, “I was able to procure Nami Mataguchi’s phone records for the past two years for both her cellphone as well as her number at The Trinity\--and if you ask me how I will have no choice but to kill you--and I searched through those to find the numbers that she called the most, but that yielded the same old same old: her parents in Akita, older sister in Kagoshima, younger brother in Aichi…”

Same old Isoroku. How he was able to say all that in one breath was beyond him.

“So I thought maybe she doesn’t call them. Maybe they call her. So I went back through her phone records and this time I found it.” Isoroku sounded excited.

“Found what?” Chishin had to admit, he was too.

“‘Who’, my dear Chi-Chi,” Isoroku corrected. “I found the ‘who’.”

“And _who_ did you find?”

“Usami. Ayaka Usami.”

Before he could stop it, a gasp escaped passed Chishin lips.

“I take it you know her?”

It was as if all his energy was sucked out of him at once. Chishin collapsed back into his chair. “A-are you sure?” His voice came out barely above that of a whisper.

There was a noise over the line that clearly expressed Isoroku’s disgust with the question. “Of course I am. So who is she?”

“Sh-she…” It did not have to mean anything. Could be just a simple coincidence. It happened. Somehow, he was not buying that explanation though. But if Ayaka Usami was indeed the force behind Nami’s crusade…

“She what? Come on man! I did not lose a night’s sleep for free. Who is she?” Isoroku demanded.

“Fiancée,” Chishin muttered. He was beyond flabbergasted, but it made a sick sort of sense. Put her into the picture and it all finally started to make sense.

“Huh?”

“Ayaka Usami was supposed to marry Eiri Yuki,” he explained in a stronger voice.

“No kidding?”

“Actually,” Chishin corrected, “their fathers arranged for them to get married, but Eiri decided to marry Shindou instead.”

“Well. Well. Interesting.”

Chishin was not so sure that “interesting” covered it.

 

* * *

 

**Park Axis Ochanomizu - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

With a “thank you” tossed kindly over her shoulder, Mai Shindou stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk. The sweltering heat encased her immediately. Of course, she had to choose one of the hottest days of the year for this little fieldtrip. Lucky her. At least her husband was at work. He never would have allowed her to do this.

As the bus pulled away from the curb and started down the street where it vanished around the corner, she glanced at the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to get her bearings. She had no idea where she was. She hoped she hadn’t gotten off at the wrong stop. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a lined sheet of paper that had been ripped out of a spiral bound notebook. She unfolded it and tried to read the chicken scratch scribbled on it. Her daughter’s handwriting was atrocious. “Park Axis Ochanomizu,” she read the unfamiliar name slowly. She glanced up from the paper at the buildings around her. They all looked alike. How was she supposed to tell which was which? “Excuse me,” she called after a man in a business suit. “Can you tell me where the Park Axis Ochanomizu building is?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied kindly and pointed across the street at a glass and metal high-rise building.

Mai breathed a sigh of relief. She had gotten off at the right stop. After thanking the man, she waited for a break in the traffic and darted across the street.

 

* * *

 

**Ryugan Temple - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

It was a beautiful day. Oh, yes it was.

Humming the wedding march happily, she strolled, practically skipping, around the koi pond behind the house, picking the flowers that grew wildly along the back wall. The bouquet’s sweet fragrance tickled her senses. Maybe she could use these same flowers in her bridal bouquet. She was sure her grandmother would love it for it was her grandmother’s grandmother who originally planted the flowers.

She giggled gaily. Never before had she felt as fortunate and ecstatic as she was at this moment.

Shindou was willing get the paternity test done.

But…

The smile slipped and the merriment she has been feeling since she received the news this morning died a quick death. Stopping her leisurely walk around the pond, she frowned into the colorful bouquet of flowers clutched in her small hand. She thought about what that could mean, really thought about it for the first time. As much as she did not want to think about the possibility, she could be wrong. That Aizawa guy could be the biological father of Shindou’s son. It could explain why he was confident enough to agree to her challenge.

She shook the negative thoughts away.

No. She knew she was right. She had to be. It was not as if Shindou had agreed. No, he had caved in under the pressure. Why else would it have taken so long for him to agree to get the DNA paternity test done? If he had been so confident of his son’s biological genes, he would have agreed right away, right? Yes, the statement that he released claimed that he had “nothing to prove”. That no matter what the results came back as, “Eiri was little Takanori’s father”. So his reluctance could be chalked up to pride and stubbornness.

But…

What if she was?

No. It didn’t matter, she decided. There were always other ways after all.

One way or another she would crush Shuichi Shindou and Eiri would be hers.

She wondered if Eiri would not mind having the ceremony here. Of course, her father would be the officiate. His father could not very well do it. First, though, before they could be married, he had to divorce that little whore of his. But that was an easy fix. Then, of course, there was that waiting period required by law…

Ayaka blinked down in confusion at the crushed flowers in her hand. How did that happen, she wondered.

 

* * *

 

**Park Axis Ochanomizu - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

“May I help you?” asked a soft, but demanding voice from behind her.

Startled, Mai spun around. With a hand over her racing heart, she laughed lightly at being caught unawares.

Standing before her was a young girl about the same height as her son, though she wasn’t as lithe as he was. Her hair had been pulled into a side ponytail, the long strawberry blond tresses hanging freely over her shoulder. Casually dressed in a way too short jean skirt, a black velvet zip up hoodie over a white T-shirt, black stockings and black leather heeled boots, she seemed to be scrutinizing her, as if trying to decide whether or not she belonged in the building or not.

“Is there something I can help you with?” the girl reiterated.

“Oh, uhm, well, I’m trying to find my son’s apartment.” Mai glanced down at the sheet of paper still clutched in her hand. “Apartment number 2108?” She glanced at the girl hopefully.

“You mean Shu?”

“Yes,” Mai confirmed with a nod and a grateful smile. “Yes. That’s him. Shuichi Shindou.”

The girl crossed her arms over her chest and regarded her with suspicion. “You’re Shu’s mother?” It sounded as if she did not believe her.

“Yes I am.” Technically, he was her son’s son, thus making him her grandson, but when the executives at L8r Records decided that one of their rising stars was too young to become a parent (not too mention what it would do to their record sales if the news were to get out that Japan‘s newest teen idol had a kid), she had decided to adopt Shuichi and raise him as her own so that he would not become lost within the system.

Raise him as her own. She had to wince at that. After voluntarily taking her grandson into her house, she’d done a lousy job as a mother, hadn’t she? But that was why she was here. Hopefully it wasn’t too late to make things right.

“Funny. He always said his mother was locked away in some loony bin.”

Mai blinked. “What?”

The girl continued to regard Mai with open hostility. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here. I don’t know if you’re really Shu’s mother or what and it‘s not really any of my business, but he hasn’t been here since yesterday morning.”

“He’s not here?”

“Yeah. He left with a small overnight bag and said depending on how things went, he just might be moving out.”

Mai mulled that over. Moving out? Did that mean that he and Eiri had gotten back together? One could only hope. “Thank you,” she mumbled, half distracted by her thoughts, as she exited the building.

“He always said his mother was locked away in some loony bin.”

What did that mean?

 

**…To Be Continued…**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) At the time I wrote this, apparently, this was a real problem in Indonesia.  
> (2) This is the (supposed) real mission of EWTN, which is a Roman Catholic cable channel here in the States
> 
> A/N: Thought you guys would find this little factoid a little interesting. “With the ability to do early ultrasounds, we have learned that many pregnancies start out with two babies, but one is lost in the first few weeks. The loss is so early that even the woman does not know about it; without ultrasound, we would never have known this was happening.” Found it on: http://www.ivillage.com/vanishing-twin-syndrome/4-y-105010


	4. Surprises Are Bad for the Heart But Confession Is Good for the Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inserts: “Chapel of Love” by the Dixie Cups (1964), passage from: "Homosexuality: Not a Sin...Not a Sickness; What the Bible Does and Does Not Say"

* * *

 

**Chapter 4: Surprises Are Bad for the Heart But Confession Is Good for the Soul**

**In Route to the Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

It was a route Shuichi had traversed numerous times, but this time the hike up the inclined side road to the Compound from the main street seemed to take twice as long as usual. With each step forward, the path seemed to grow that much longer. Though it was impossible for that to be the case, Shuichi nevertheless was adamant in this belief. Halfway up the hill, he was forced to rest in order to catch his breath. Hugging an arm under his pregnancy-swollen belly, he carefully lowered himself down onto a wooden bench located outside a quaint little ramen shop. The smells wafting out of the restaurant would normally be making his mouth water, but this time they started churning his stomach.

As he rested, he took the opportunity to study the Compound that loomed larger than life--or that was the way it had always seemed to him--above the quiet city. A sudden flurry of movement in his belly added to his already nauseous state. “Hush now Kita, Kaya,” he whispered. He rubbed his belly in order to try to soothe his unborn children back to sleep. It seemed as if they were as agitated as he was. “We’re doing this for your big brother.” His words seemed to work, for the twins settled right back down. Grateful, he heaved a sigh.

As much as he would like to, he could not sit here forever. Gathering himself, he stood from the bench, shouldered his messenger bag and continued his trek up the hill.

 

* * *

 

**TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo**

The meeting with the Board seemed to be dragging on. It felt as if it’d started ages ago. In actuality, it had only just begun. If asked, Chishin would not be able to repeat any of what was being said for his mind was elsewhere.

_“Usami. Ayaka Usami.”_

As unlikely as it seemed, the two of them made quite the team, Nami Mataguchi and Ayaka Usami.

For some reason, the recognition of transgendered people as the third sex disgusted Nami Mataguchi. Despite the extremist magazine she worked for, Nami herself was not a zealot. That was not to say that she was agnostic or even an atheist, for she was a strong believer in her Catholic faith. Having known her since they were children, he could honestly say that if ever someone were to enter the religious life, it would have been her. But something happened when they were first years in high school. He was unsure of what transpired for Nami refused to discuss it to this day, but looking back now, that was when everything changed. That was when she started to change and not for the better.

Then there was Ayaka Usami. The only daughter of the Ryugan Temple, an only child, apple of her parent’s eye and spoiled to the core. Whatever she wanted, she was given. Her every wish was granted. It was rare that she ever heard the word “no”.

Her father was the head priest at the family shrine, a position that was to be handed down to his son-in-law since he had no sons of his own. Up until two years ago, Mr. Usami had his heart set on Eiri Uesugi being that man. Why one might wonder? It was simple really. Eiri--aside from being a published, best-selling author who went by the name “Eiri Yuki“--was already a fully trained monk. It was perfect. Who else but a fully trained monk would be perfect as his little girl’s husband? Especially one that had been childhood friends with Ayaka. What made it even more ideal was the fact that Eiri was the eldest son to Mr. Usami’s oldest and closest friend, another monk who ran and oversaw the Uesugi Shrine.

As far as Chishin knew, Ayaka was not prejudiced against Neutrals. It was quite the opposite in fact. Isoroku had been able to dig up quite a bit of dirt on Miss Squeaky Clean. All throughout high school, she’d dated a Neutral with full knowledge of what he was. So why would someone like that, who had everything in the world handed to her on a gold platter, try to sabotage Eiri Yuki’s relationship with Shuichi Shindou? Because there was one. When Eiri blew off the betrothal their parents had established between the two of them, Ayaka must have taken the slight personally.

It was obvious that girl was not right in the head. To think that Eiri would have anything to do with her were he to learn what role she played in destroying his relationship with Shuichi was idiocy. That is, of course, if Eiri ever did find out that she was the brains behind the whole operation.

He could just hear Ayaka’s voice in his head now. _What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him._

For sake of argument, presume Ayaka’s plan succeeded. What was there to say that Eiri would even renew his connection with her? He blew her off once before. What was their to stop him from doing so again? If, by some slim chance, Eiri were to agree to marry Ayaka, it would not be because he suddenly found himself inexplicably in love with her. He would marry her in an effort to forget there was a huge hole in his chest. Something told Chishin that Ayaka would not have a problem with that though. As long as she got to call herself Mrs. Eiri Uesugi, what else mattered?

To think that just because you were in love with him, he was supposed to turn his life upside down was utter lunacy. You confessed. He turned you down. Time to move on. Clinging to a love that was just not interested just made you a pathetic loser. The last thing a stalker is allowed to do is come within five hundred feet of the one they supposedly love.

No. It was clear. Ayaka Usami was playing solitaire with half of the cards in her desk missing.

Chishin reclined in his chair located at the head of the conference table and turned to stare out the window.

He was unsure how Nami Mataguchi and Ayaka Usami came to meet, but they were a perfect pair.

 

* * *

 

**The Trinity Offices - Setagaya, Tokyo**

Across town in her office at The Trinity, Nami Mataguchi was going over an article one of the staff writers had written about the truth behind the formation of strata and what it meant for the debate between Creationism and the Big Bang Theory.

A permanent smile seemed to have been etched onto her face. She could not stop smiling.

Yes, she had her issues with the so-called Third Sex. Ask anybody who knew her. They would tell you the same thing. That was not to say she was one hundred percent behind Ayaka Usami’s plan. If anything, she was against it. The younger woman was clearly insane. She was dumped by the boy she’s had a crush on since she was a child and for some strange reason, got it into her head that if she were to get rid of the competition, she’d be able to win back that boy’s heart; as if she ever had it to begin with. People like her have gone to jail for pulling stunts like this. While she was against Ayaka’s asinine plan, it was doing wonders for her magazine, but if things went too far, she would be the first to call foul. She had no problem being called a Turncoat.

 

* * *

 

**La Esperança Cafe - Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo**

_“He always said his mother was locked away in some loony bin.”_

When the voice of her son’s neighbor echoed through her mind, she shook her head vehemently.

She was sitting at a small bistro table with her back to the window in an open-air café located down the street from her son’s condo. The intense summer sun was beating against her back. It felt good compared to the cold air filling the café. She was all for a little AC during the hotter months of the year, but she drew the line when the air conditioner dropped the temperature to down right frigid. It was like living inside an icebox.

As she waited for her order, her dark-eyed gaze wandered about the small interior of the café. As it was just a block away, she wondered if Shuichi ever frequented this place. It was a quaint place with just enough room within to seat a dozen people max. According to the server who took her order, there was a patio located out back that upgraded the capacity by another dozen. She’d come across the café as she was making her way to the train.

_“He always said his mother was locked away in some loony bin.”_

Despite how hard she tried to ignore it, the question continued to plague her.

_“He always said his mother was locked away in some loony bin.”_

Why would Shuichi say something like that?  Tears stung her eyes.  She used the cloth napkin folded neatly in her lap to cover her sob in order to keep the whole of the café from hearing her sob.  Yes, they’d had a falling out.  Yes, she hadn’t been an ideal mother.  Nobody was going to nominate her for world’s best mother anytime soon.  She would be the first to admit that she had been a terrible mother.  She’d made her share of mistakes.  Choosing her husband, who’d always had a problem with two adopted sons in the family as well as being embarrassed that his only child--a daughter at that--was conceived only with the help of invitro-fertilization, over Shuichi was something she would have to live with for the rest of her life.  It was one of the biggest mistakes she ever made.  If she could go back and change things she would, but unfortunately, she can’t.  But was that reason enough for him to create such a lie? 

_But was it really a lie?_

The sudden thought came from out of nowhere.  It must have been something she’d been mulling over subconsciously ever since that girl made that comment about Shuichi telling her about his mother being locked away.  But it started her wondering.  What if his lie wasn’t a lie?

_But then what would it be?_

On the one hand, it could be a cover story: a lie to mask the heartache he felt at being abandoned by his parents.

But was that really the case?

In truth, she was not sure what became of Shuichi’s birth mother. All details concerning Shuichi’s conception and subsequent birth were sealed. Even if Ryuichi had been free to tell her the details surrounding the birth of his son, he wouldn’t have told her anything. Something happened. She was almost positive that Ryuichi hadn’t been assaulted, but there was some sort of strain between Ryuichi and Shuichi’s birth mother. It was still there till this day. It could be why Ryuichi never told Shuichi the truth, but did Ryuichi finally tell Shuichi? Was that why Shuichi said what he said? If that were the case, then it was entirely possible that when Shuichi claimed that his mother was in a psychiatric hospital (the “loony bin”) somewhere, he’d been speaking of his birth mother.

But-

Her buzzing cellphone cut through her thought. The name on the LCD screen had her frowning. “Why aren’t you in class Maiko?” she asked her daughter suspiciously. A quick glance at her watch indicated that yes, her daughter should be in class at that very moment.

“We’re being sent home early today.”

“What?” Panic started her heat racing. “Why? What happened?” Concern for the wellbeing and safety of her daughter flushed through her.

“Not sure. Something about a water main break.”

Relief washed over Mai. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious.

“You went to see Big Brother, right?”

“That was the plan.”

“So? How did it go?”

“It didn’t. He wasn’t there.”

Maiko made a sound that clearly convoyed how disappointed she was.

“A neighbor said something about him possibly spending the night with Eiri.”

Maiko squealed in delight. “Then they made up?”

“Looks like it.”

“Oo! Hey, I think I may have Eiri’s address somewhere. Do you want it?” Maiko asked, sounding a little too eager.

Mai straightened.  Her eyes flashed.  Her heart started racing once again, but this time for a very different reason.  War raged inside of her.  Part of her wanted to scream out, “Yes!  Give it to me!”  She desperately wanted to speak to her son and apologize for her behavior towards him.  She had voluntarily taken him into her home in order to raise him as her own and yet…There was no excuse for the way she’d behaved.  Your children were supposed to be the most important aspect of your life.  They came before God, country, your job and your spouse.  She’d made so many mistakes.  Even if it took several lifetimes, she would make it up to him.  They may never have the type of mother-son relationship that she and Ryuichi once had, but as long as Shuichi accepted her into his heart in some capacity, then that was fine by her.

Yet at the same time, there was another part of her that wanted to say, “No.  That’s all right.  Maybe some other time.”  What if Shuichi rejected her?  If he did, she could not very well blame him.  After the way she and her husband treated him, abandoned him, rejected him, it would surprise her if he didn’t.

But…

She had to at least try. Even if he shut the door in her face, it was better then wondering what if. The last thing she wanted was to have any regrets on her deathbed. At least, any more then she already had.

“Okay. Sure.”

“Cool! I’ll go find it and call you right back.”

“Sounds good.”

After they exchanged goodbyes, Mai was left to ponder quietly. Was this really a good idea?

 

* * *

 

**Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

“What the hell is he doing?” Tatsuha grumbled as he pushed through the swinging door that separated the living room from the bedrooms. “Ryu,” he called.

“Coming!”

Seconds later Ryuichi barreled out of the master bedroom, nearly plowing into him. “What the hell were you doing? Didn’t you hear me? My brother’s here.”

“And Shu?” Ryuichi asked hopefully.

Tatsuha shook his head. He did not miss the fact that Ryuichi avoided answering the question. “Apparently he went to see Kizou.”

Ryuichi frowned. “What the hell for?”

Tatsuha sighed. Here we go again. “You know why,” he said.

From the very beginning, Ryuichi had been flat out against giving in to the demands of Nami Mataguchi. It wasn’t as if Tatsuha did not understand Ryuichi’s reasoning. They all did. You do not give terrorists what they wanted. Give so much as an inch and you will be trampled. Like an alcoholic, they cannot stop at just one.

At the same time, Nami Mataguchi had a point. If they had nothing to hide, then what did it matter if a DNA paternity test was done?

Either way, Ryuichi as well as Shuichi had been adamantly against the idea. It was absurd. Like father like son.

But early this morning, they received a phone call from Eiri. Apparently, Shuichi was traveling out to Kyoto to see Kizou. Shuichi had decided to do the DNA paternity test after all. To say Ryuichi was not a happy camper would be an understatement. What was the catalyst that pushed Shuichi into giving in?

Grumbling, Ryuichi pushed passed his lover and vanished out into the living room.

“Hey, Sakuma,” he heard his brother’s rumbling voice. Tatsuha was torn between saying Eiri sounded bored or uninterested. Knowing where Shuichi was at this very moment, alone, he decided to go with distracted instead. Who would have guessed? To think this was his same stoic big brother from two years ago. There was a squeal of laughter followed the sound of running feet. What did that mean that he couldn’t distinguish whether little Takanori or Ryuichi was responsible?

Chiding himself, he started after his wayward husband, but halted his forward movement. From the other side, he could hear little Takanori spinning some sort of tale. He glanced down the hall over his shoulder at the closed master bedroom door. A frown marred his features. Just what had Ryuichi been doing in there?

 

* * *

 

**Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

At least fifteen feet, a white wall surrounded the entirety of the compound. Climbing gear was needed to scale it, which was the way Kizou liked it. At any given time, there was a dozen or so armed guards patrolling the grounds, all of whom were at the level of Dan in their perspective martial art. It was a requirement that Kizou strictly enforced. The wooden doors looming before him were the only way in or out of the compound. At least, they were the only access everybody other than Shuichi and Kizou knew about. In reality, there were at least half a dozen secret escape routes that he knew about. Though he was not sure where they were located, he was almost positive that there were others.

Shuichi ran his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt and then tugged at the hem to make sure it was lying straight, which was not very given his current state. Next, he straightened out his collar. Then he smoothed out any wrinkles or creases fixing his collar might have produced. He caught himself as his hands wandered down to the hem of his shirt.

“Stop it,” he reprimanded himself. “Just ring the damn bell already.”

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and raised a hand to the buzzer located on the wall besides the double wooden doors. Either the buzzer was moving or he was shaking. Pulling back, he inhaled, taking a deep breath in through the nose, held it, and then exhaled slowly out through his mouth. He did this several more times until he felt the tension start to slowly melt away. It was a technique Ryuichi taught him years ago in order to deal with his stage fright. But this was nuts! Why was he so nervous? It was only Kizou after all. At that, he tried to laugh, but it came out sounding sickly. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he squared his shoulders, stepped forward once again and rang the buzzer.

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

**  
**   


**Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

It did not take very long for his arrival to be noticed.

There was a loud clang from the other side of the doors. In the silence of the hot morning, the sound seemed unnaturally loud. It startled Shuichi, causing him to jump and utter a little gasping yelp. The twins growing within his belly seemed to sense his fright, for they woke suddenly from their slumber and made their presence known. He rubbed his belly in soothing circles, making soft hushing noises to get them to calm down, while at the same time, his own anxiety was at an all time high. One of the two large wooden doors creaked open. He gulped and fidgeted nervously. When a familiar head popped out, he stilled. “Narata?”

The large dark eyes blinked at him slowly. First, his face was carefully blank and then the surprise and shock took over. “Shu?”

Shuichi grinned at the sight of his old friend.

At forty-five, Nagataka “Narata” Matsushina was only a few years younger than Kizou, which made him nearly twice as old as almost every other member of the Black Dragons.  In a past life, he used to be a police detective here in Kyoto.  He started his police career in Homicide, then when he made detective, he transferred to Special Victims, but quickly transferred back out.  He wound up in narcotics where his first assignment turned out to be an undercover job.  His mission?  Infiltrate the Black Dragons.  He was to gather enough evidence that would bring the gang down for good.

Things did not turn out exactly how his superiors had envisioned.

Narata was the first person to befriend him when Kizou wrangled him into joining the Black Dragons. Narata was the only one who’d had no sexual interest in him. While that knowledge had been a huge relief, it had also been taken with a grain of salt. In a household where more often then not, you woke with someone’s hand down your pants and someone else’s tongue down your throat, Narata’s abstinence had been very suspicious. It took some time for Shuichi to be able to trust that what Narata claimed was true. After that, the two of them became very good friends and would sit and talk for hours at a time, sometimes about nothing at all.

Narata opened the door wider and stepped out. He glanced the singer over, pausing briefly on the swelling belly. If possible, his eyes grew wider. “Holy crap! You’re pregnant!”

Shuichi chuckled. “Yah.” He ran his hands over his belly. Somebody’s foot slammed against his hand. It was hard enough to take his breath away.

“You okay?” Narata asked him. Concern was written all over his face. He had stepped forward with his arms outstretched, but he hadn‘t touched him. While he looked worried that something serious had happened there was also uncertainty because he was unsure what it was he should or could do if it turned out something serious was wrong.

Catching his breath, Shuichi nodded. “Yeah. Just kicked a little hard.”

Relief flooded through the ex-police officer. Instead, Narata tossed his head back and laughed. “My oldest was like that! Always kicking and moving. My wife was convinced Abi was claustrophobic.” He laughed again.

An unborn baby claustrophobic? Was that even possible? It sounded ludicrous.

“And then when Abi was born, she proved just how much she disliked tight spaces, you know, where she did not have the space to move and flail about, by screaming every single time she was put in her stroller or her car seat,” Narata laughed.

Shuichi shook his head at that.

“Anyway,” Narata continued, “you look great.”

Shuichi blushed madly. “Thanks.”

“What brings you by? Have a concert in the area or something?” Crossing his arms over his chest, he centered his weight and regarded the younger man before him.

“…Actually.” Shuichi dropped his gaze to his sneakers. They contrasted sharply against the blackness of the surface of the road. “I need to speak to Kizou.”

Narata blinked. It took his brain several moments to process what it was he just heard. “With the boss?” Even then it made no sense. It surprised him that Shuichi would want anything to do with Kizou, especially given the way the two of them had parted.

Shuichi nodded, but said nothing.

“Shu.” He wondered what would bring Shuichi all the way from Tokyo to see an ex-lover that had, quite literally, thrown him out with the trash.

“Please, Narata. I need to see him.” Shuichi lifted his head and gazed at his old friend, his violet eyes pleading with him to understand. “Is he in?”

There was a slight hesitation before Narata spoke. “Actually.” He glanced over his shoulder at the manor. “He’s extremely busy this morning.” He turned back to face the pink haired, pregnant singer. “There was some sort of trouble in Hong Kong,” he explained. Yes, it would be better if Shuichi just turned right back around and went back to Tokyo.

“Please. It’s…Tell him it’s, it’s about--his son.”

Narata’s eyes grew wide.

 

* * *

 

**La Esperança Cafe - Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo**

With a crumbled piece of paper in her hand, Mai Shindou stood out on the sidewalk outside the café where she had grabbed a light brunch. On one side was her son’s address. On the other side was a second address. This one was only a short train ride from here. Her nerves were starting to flare back up. The longer she stood there staring down at the address, the worse they became. Should she drop by? What if they weren’t home? Then again, what if they were? Would Shuichi slam the door in her face? Would he welcome her warmly? All this uncertainty was making her nauseous.

The condominium her son started renting after he and Eiri split up--or so the tabloids claimed--was located right down the street. Shuichi and Eiri had released statements, both together and separately, several times denouncing what the tabloids continued to spew. They were not on the verge of a divorce. Yes, they were currently separated, but still very much in love. Of course, most people did not believe them. How could they? It was clear that Shuichi Shindou had taken his son and moved out of the condominium he had shared with Eiri Yuki for the last two years. That it happened not too long after Shuichi was caught by paparazzi going into a local pharmacy and buying a pregnancy test did nothing for his denies of infidelity. She understood now that the test he was caught buying was for Maiko, but others refused to believe the truth. The question on their mind was this: if there was no infidelity and they were still together, then why did they not live together any longer? Of course, under certain circumstances, sometimes couples were forced to live apart. She, honestly, could not understand why a happily married couple could not live together, no matter what the circumstances. A marriage was not a marriage if nothing changed after the vows were exchanged. Long distance relationships never worked.

No matter what the reception her visit received, this was something she had to do. The longer she stalled, the worse her relationship with her son was going to become. She did not want to become a stranger to not only both of her sons, but her grandson as well as her sons-in-law.

Steeling herself, she folded the crumbled piece of paper and stuffed it into her pocket before heading down the street to the train.

 

* * *

 

**Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

As Tatsuha pushed through the swinging door into the living room, he heaved a tired sigh. A hamster running in its wheel was exactly what he felt like when he was speaking with Ryuichi about Shuichi and Yuki. It did not matter how hard, fast or long he ran; he was going nowhere quick. The man was more stubborn than a mule. It was hard to believe, but Ryuichi Sakuma was the type of person who held a grudge, especially if the slight was against someone he cared about. The fact that Yuki had had no qualms about throwing his pregnant self off the roof of the old record company building was not something Ryuichi was going to easily forget or forgive. And Tatsuha understood that. He really did, but still, no matter how much Ryuichi wanted to erase the fact, Yuki Kitazawa was Shuichi’s mother. It was something Ryuichi was going to have to deal with eventually and the sooner the better. Knowing Ryuichi like he did, Ryuichi would prefer later over sooner. He just hoped it did not back fire on his husband. Okay, so maybe that was not exactly accurate. Part of him wished it would. Petty it may be, but true it was nonetheless.

“Woh there,” Tatsuha cried out. Just as he stepped into the living room, a blur of color sped passed him. He grabbed the squirming mass, nearly losing his balance in the process as the two year old, despite his un-lithe-like body structure, was very much like his mother: swift and flexible. “Trying to make a break for it, huh?” He held his nephew--or was that grandson? --over his head. The door swung shut behind him. “Huh?” He tossed little Takanori up into the air. “Huh?”

Little Takanori squealed with laughter.

Eiri broke off his conversation, if it could be called that for he was not doing any of the talking, with his husband’s brother and glanced around sharply. Honestly, his son was too much like his mother. You took your eyes off him for a second and he disappeared. They both needed leashes. Or maybe tracking devices. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted his son with his brother.

Ryuichi chuckled lightly at the changing expressions on Eiri’s face. “You’re such a father.”

Eiri rolled his eyes. Whatever. “Better be careful,” he warned turning towards his brother. There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “He just ate.”

“…Yeah, hello to you too, Aniki,” Tatsuha greeted his, slightly, older brother as he put an immediate halt on tossing his nephew into the air. Instead, he held him under his arm like a stack of books. “So, you really did let Shu go off to Kyoto alone,” he commented with a glance around.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he regarded his brother. “I did not ‘let’ Shuichi do anything,” he corrected.

“Oh, really,” Tatsuha smirked. He had to laugh at the expression on Eiri’s face. It looked like he was sulking.

Little Takanori started squirming and proclaimed loud and clear that he wanted to be put down.

Eiri narrowed his gaze. He knew exactly what was going through Tatsuha’s head and he did not like it one bit. “Shuichi made the decision to go talk with Kizou by himself and once Shuichi decides to do something there is no changing his mind.”

“So you didn’t even try to talk him out of it?” Tatsuha he set little Takanori down before all his squirming caused him to drop the boy.

Little Takanori ran across the living room to the large steamer trunk where his toys were stored.

Eiri rolled his eyes. What was he? Suicidal? “Please.”

“Afraid to end up on the couch?” Ryuichi teased.

Eiri snorted. “Damn right.” Except for one or twice, up until last night, he’d been on a forced abstinence ever since Shuichi decided that he needed to see what being his own man was like. Withdrawal was an ugly, ugly mistress. He never wanted to go through that again--ever.

“But,” Tatsuha spoke up.  All the teasing had vanished from his voice and his expression.  He was all seriousness.  “Do you really think that man is really little Takanori’s father?”

“Who knows,” Eiri shrugged.

“Have you ever seen him?”

Eiri shook his head.

“Hm.”

Ryuichi glanced over his shoulder at his grandson. He’d never seen Shuichi’s ex-Yakuza boyfriend either (thank God for small favors), but all it took was one glance at little Takanori to tell that there was someone else looking back at you, someone who was not Yuki Kitazawa or Taki Aizawa. He blinked. “Where’d he go?”

“Who?”

“Little Takanori.”

Eiri whipped around. His son was gone--again. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake.” He really needed to implant a tracking device in that boy. He swept his gaze over the living room. The door separating the bedrooms from the living room was moving. He sighed. “I’ve got him,” he announced, moving towards the door his son had just gone through.

“Slippery little devil isn’t he?”

“Oh, you’ve got no idea,” Eiri mumbled.

Tatsuha’s laugh was cut short by the door swinging shut.

The first room he came upon was the bathroom, which was empty, then Ryuichi’s home studio. It too was empty. Then came Shuichi’s old bedroom and the guest room, which also functioned as the prayer room. Both were empty. The last room was the master bedroom. At first, it appeared to be empty, but then he noticed that the closet door was slightly ajar.

Eiri sighed. His son was always getting into something.

Crossing the room, he pushed the pocket door into the wall and stepped into the closet. The darkness swallowed him instantly. After some fishing, he found the light switch. Once the closet was flooded with light, he spotted his son in the back sitting on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

At the sound of his father’s voice, little Takanori whipped his head around. “Hi, Daddy,” he greeted with a smile.

It was his mother’s smile. Dear God., Eiri thought. “Hi, Takanori.” He squatted. “You know you aren’t allowed in here, right?”

“Eiri?” came the distant call from his brother-in-law.

“In here,” he called back.

“Here Daddy.”

Eiri frowned as his son handed him a pen. “Where’d you get that?”

Instead of answering, little Takanori handed him the yellow piece of paper he’d been doodling on.

“What’d you get into now?”  Curious, Eiri took the proffered paper.  He hoped this was not something important.  Little Takanori had a habit of drawing on anything and everything.  Once upon a time, he used to have a first edition of Walt Whitman’s _Leaves of Grass_ that had been in mint condition and estimated at about two hundred thousand American dollars.  “Used to” being the key word.  Now it had colorful doodle marks all over the first five pages.

It appeared as if what little Takanori had been doodling on was a document of some sort. There was official looking writing on the back, but it was hard to make out underneath his son’s pen marks. Great. This was why Shuichi always kept his sketchpad on him at all times. “Takanori,” he sighed. What was he going to do with this boy? When Eiri flipped the yellow document over, he went still. “What--the--hell?”

“You find him?”

A wave of anger washed over him. Slowly, Eiri turned around. Standing in the doorway of the bedroom with Tatsuha behind him was Ryuichi Sakuma. His eyes went hard.

At the expression on Eiri‘s face, Ryuichi began to panic. “What happened? Is-?”

“What the hell is this?” Eiri demanded.

Ryuichi recognized the yellow paper in Eiri’s outstretched hand. The color drained from his face. He suddenly did not feel so well. “Oh, God.”

“You have some explaining to do.”

 

* * *

**III**

* * *

**  
**   


**Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Little Takanori Uesugi was just like his mother. He was a slippery little devil who vanished the instant you took your eyes off him. “Eiri? You find him,” Ryuichi called down the hallway. When from behind him, he heard Tatsuha chuckle, he knew the man was thinking the same thing he was.

“Looks like Bro has his hands full.”

Ryuichi chuckled lightly. That Eiri did and to think the man had another little one on the way. “Eiri?” he called. No answer. Could he not hear him? The light was on in the master bedroom so he knew that was where Eiri was. How his grandson managed to sneak out of the living room, push open the door (that should have been too heavy for the two year old) that separated the living room from the bedroom hallway, scurry down the hall to the master bedroom at the end of the hallway all in a matter of seconds he will never know. Shuichi used to do the same thing when he was little Takanori’s age. One second he was right there besides you and the next second he was on the other side of the house in the middle of a tsunami made mess. The boy had been like the Tasmanian Devil, only ten times worse.

Pushing through the swinging door, Ryuichi made his way stealthily down the hall to the bedroom he shared with Tatsuha. He poked his head inside and saw Eiri crouching on the floor of the closet. “You find him?” He stepped into the room.

Eiri rose to his feet and turned to face him.

Involuntarily, Ryuichi backed up several steps from the black aura surrounding Eiri.  A panic driven thought flitted through his mind briefly, but he pushed it aside as being ludicrous.  He’d made sure everything was put away earlier…right?  Yes, he decided firmly as he shoved away the nagging feeling of doubt.  There was nothing for him to be worried about.  The grim look on Eiri’s face had to be a sign that something else had happened.  Maybe little Takanori had gotten into something.  It would make sense with all the junk piled up in there.  He really had to clean it out one of these days.  “What happened?  Is-?”

“What the hell is this?” Eiri demanded angrily.

Ryuichi dropped his gaze to the yellow paper in Eiri’s outstretched hand. He recognized it instantly. The color drained from his face. “Oh, God,” he moaned. Suddenly, he did not feel so well.

“You have some explaining to do,” Eiri snapped.

Under his grip, Tatsuha could feel Ryuichi trembling. “Bro-”

“Shut it,” Eiri snapped.

Startled, Tatsuha closed his mouth. Never had Eiri spoken to him like this.

“‘This certifies that a certificate of birth has been filed under the name of: Shuichi Karishma (1) Sakuma’,” he read from the document, “‘Sex: Neutral. Born on: April 16 1992. At: Kyoto Memorial Medical Center, Kyoto. Name of father: Ryuichi Shu Sakuma. Maiden name of mother: Yuki Kitazawa.’” He raised his head and glared across the bedroom at his little brother’s lover. “What the fuck is this?”

Tatsuha sighed. He’d known something like this would happen. How many times had he warned Ryuichi?

“You’d better start talking Ryuichi Sakuma. Now!”

Dammit! Though he had been warned, he’d never actually thought it would happen.

_“Would you rather he found out some other way?”_

But how many would believe him if he told the truth?

One night. That was all it took to change his life forever.

If Yuki’s girlfriend hadn’t pressured him into buying tickets to see Nittle Grasper at the opening ceremonies of the anime convention in New York City...If Yuki hadn’t caught her cheating with his best friend…If Yuki hadn’t decided to go to the concert anyway (without his unfaithful girlfriend) just to spite her…If Yuki hadn’t become obsessed with him after that night…If Yuki’s obsession hadn’t taken him to Japan…

Then there was him. If he wouldn’t have been attracted to Yuki…

_“Love me, Ryu. Love me!”_

In a way, it was thanks to Yuki’s cheating girlfriend that the two of them were able to meet and conceive a beautiful baby boy together.

Despite what many people might believe, it had not been his decision to sign away his parental rights. If it had been up to him, he would have taken his chances with raising a child as a single parent, but he’d been cuckolded.

It’d been a lose-lose situation, especially given how young he’d been at the time Shuichi was born. His fourteenth birthday had been a mere fortnight before Shuichi’s birth, a baby himself. If he had only been a few years older, it would not have mattered. Since he had been so young, raising Shuichi on his own had not been a realistic endeavor.

It also would have gone against the guidance he received from Kichiji Ueda--who had been Nittle Grasper’s manager at the time--as well as from their producer, the president of L8r Records--Kiaki Matsusaki--as well as Tohma and Noriko (unbelievably).

At the time, L8r Records was the biggest, most respected and most powerful label in Japan.  Going against their “advice” was detrimental to your health.  It was kin to suicide.  Not only would he have been fired from the very band he started and “released” from the record company, but also, he never would have been able to work in Japan in any capacity again.  L8r Records would have seen to that.  That hadn’t been an idle threat either.  He’d seen it happen numerous times so he‘d known Kiaki Matsusaki was serious in his threats…no, not threats.  Promises.  Without the band, there would be no income and without any money, he would not have been able to raise a child.  At fourteen, nobody would have hired him as an employee, especially after L8r Records was through blacklisting him.  Giving Shuichi up had been looking as his only option, but he hadn’t wanted to give his son up.  Shuichi was his goddamn it!

Why was L8r Records so adamantly against Ryuichi Sakuma bringing a child into the world? They claimed a child would “ruin his career”, especially if it came out that this child was a product of a one-night stand with a Neutral. There would an exodus of Nittle Grasper, and more importantly, Ryuichi Sakuma fans. Their death would be quicker and uglier than the death of Disco. He’d go from Teen Idol to Teen Villain so fast he wouldn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.

His saving grace came in the form of his mother. After a lot of yelling and screaming and crying, a few bruises and some possible broken bones, in order to keep his son from becoming a ward of the state and being lost within the system forever (L8r Records would have seen to that too), he was able to talk his mother into adopting his son, her grandson. This way, he would be giving up his parental rights without giving up his son.

But that had been far from the end.

He’d had to talk Kiaki Matsusaki (the Devil’s advocate himself) and the others at L8r Records into believing this was the best deal for all parties involved, which he eventually was able to do, but the cost of doing so was enough to make him regret his decision to give in the demands of those bastards. L8r Records would allow his mother to adopt Shuichi only if as long as he, Ryuichi Sakuma, with or without Nittle Grasper, was under contract with L8r Records, the truth was never to be revealed. If it was leaked, in any capacity, that he had a love child and with an older male Neutral, whether he was the source of the leak or not, there would be stiff penalties. Among those would be that if Shuichi were underage at the time of the leak, L8r Records would make sure he was taken away from the only home he has ever known and be forever lost within the foster care system.

No matter how he’d looked at it, whether he agreed to the terms laid out before him by L8r Records or if he raised Shuichi himself, he was screwed.

With the downfall of L8r Records, Tatsuha was right. There wasn’t anything holding him back from telling Shuichi the truth any longer, but truth be told, he honestly hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell his son the truth. What would be the point of saying anything now? Telling Shuichi he’d been living in a world of pretend and that his mother was not his mother and his father was not his father would do more harm than good and he did not want the boy to hate him. He would rather Shuichi love him as his big brother than hate him as his father. There was no doubt that Shuichi would despise him after the truth was revealed. Who wouldn’t hate the person who flipped their world upside down and inside out? No, he was certain all hell would break lose. This was one can of worms better left to expire in the pantry.

But with the discovery of Shuichi’s birth certificate, keeping silent was no longer an option.

Tatsuha felt the change before Ryuichi spoke.

“What that is is Shuichi’s birth certificate.”

Eiri’s golden gaze narrowed. “And it has your name where his father’s name should be because…?”

“Because…” Ryuichi almost could not bring himself to say it. It was not because he was ashamed to admit the truth. It was just the opposite in fact. He could not be prouder to call Shuichi his son. No, he just did not like the thought of being the one who was going to pull the rug out from under Shuichi. Shuichi was his best friend. He did not want to do anything that might hinder that.

_“But you’re not his friend, Ryu,”_ he could remember Tatsuha telling him once. _“He’s your son.”_

“Because…I’m his father.”

 

* * *

 

**The Trinity Offices - Setagaya, Tokyo**

It felt as if all her energy was suddenly sucked right out of her. “You cannot be serious.” Nami Mataguchi could honestly say this was something she had not seen coming.

There was a flurry of giggles in her ear. “Why not? What’s wrong with wanting my best friend to be my Maid of Honor?”

Somehow, the fact that Ayaka considered them best friends did not surprise her. With each passing day, it seemed as if Ayaka Usami was becoming more and more delusional. Or maybe these games were just getting really old really quickly. With one hand holding the phone to her ear, Nami dropped her head into her other hand and sighed. Was it a sin to wish for God to strike her down at that exact moment? “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”

There was a light rapt on her office door. Raising her head, Nami spied a young girl standing in the doorway. Machika? Was that her name? No. That couldn’t be it. It didn’t sound right. She waved the girl inside.

“Thank you,” Nami mouthed as the girl set a manila file folder on her desk with an apologetic smile before exiting just as quietly and quickly as she entered.

“Course not,” Ayaka stated firmly.

Why didn’t that surprise her?

“I was searching online and at David’s Bridal--Have you heard of them? I found the perfect Bridesmaid dress,” Ayaka continued without waiting for an answer. “It’s called a chiffon halter. I’ll send you the link. It sorta reminds me of a wrap (2). Oh! It’s so beautiful. All the bridesmaid dresses will be black of course.”

Nami sighed. She was getting a headache.

 

* * *

 

**TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo**

The Board had taken his suggestion surprisingly well. For some reason, Chishin had been of the mind that he would be fighting them tooth and nail for the major overhaul he felt The Christian Network needed and was long overdue for, but it seems as if he had been worried for nothing. Like him, they had not particularly cared for the path the station had been on as of late. It was not so much a change they were looking for as a “back to the basics” approach. While liberalism could be a good thing, radicalism and extremism went against everything the Church stood for. It was not what TCN stood for. While many Christians have strayed from the path laid out by Christ in order to create their own that would give credence to their own warped, misguided approach to His teachings, TCN would be, from this day forward, dedicated to preaching the true word of the Lord: acceptance, tolerance and love.

This meant that if one Nami Mataguchi wanted to go into one of her little spiels, she would have to find a new outlet. TCN would no longer be catering to her every whim.

It didn’t even ring; Chishin realized when he was instantly connected to voicemail. He wanted to ask Nami face to face about her involvement with Ayaka Usami. There was no guarantee she would tell him the truth if he were to ask over the phone or even if he sent her an email. Actually, there was no reason for her to tell him the truth even if he were able to get her to meet him. At the same time, there was no reason why she shouldn’t tell him the truth. But like the antagonist in novels, she might let her pride get the better of her and confess. He could only hope. “Yeah, hi, Nami. This’s Chishin. Give me a call when you can. Maybe we can get together for lunch or something.”

Hanging up, he sat back and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Truthfully, he hoped she didn’t get a chance to return his call. He was tired of dealing with her.

Pushing everything involving Nami Mataguchi aside, he picked up his editorial essay that was to be published on the studio website.

“For many centuries,” he read, “the Christian Church's attitude toward human sexuality was very negative: sex was for procreation, not for pleasure; women and slaves were considered property to be owned by males; and many expressions of heterosexuality, like homosexuality, were considered sinful. Such tradition often continues to influence churches today. Many teach that women should be subordinate to men, continue to permit forms of discrimination against peoples of color, and condemn homosexuals. They say that all homosexual acts are sinful, often referring to their interpretation of scripture…” (3)

As he lost himself within his essay, he felt tension he hadn’t even realized was there vanish.

Yes, this was much better.

 

* * *

 

**Ryugan Temple - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

“Going to the chapel / And we're gonna get married / Going to the chapel / And we're gonna get married,” Ayaka sang happily. “Gee I really love you / And we're gonna get married / Going to the chapel of love / Spring is here..... / Theeeeee..... / The sky is blue (whoa-ooooo) / Birds all sing / Like they do / Today's the day/ We'll say ‘I do’.”

Still humming, Ayaka continued to search the David’s Bridal website for the perfect wedding dress. Lucky for her there was a huge sale this week. Maybe she would get lucky and find The One, but there were just so many! How was she supposed to choose? Her parents would probably prefer her to wear a traditional wedding kimono instead of a western style wedding dress for her wedding. She thought the traditional shiro-maku was beautiful, especially the uchikake that was supposed to be worn over the white kimono at the reception so she wouldn‘t mind wearing one for her wedding instead of a western style one. The question was: what Eiri would prefer? (4)

You would think that because Eiri had no problems being involved with a Neutral, he might be more open to non-traditional things, like, say for example, a western style wedding dress over the traditional Japanese wedding kimono, but sometimes you just never knew. People could be a very confusing species.

Maybe she should ask Mika? Yes. That sounded like a very good idea.

 

* * *

 

**Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

Everything was the same, Shuichi noted as he was escorted by Narata down the twisting empty hallways to Kizou’s office. The nostalgia hit him with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. In an instant, it was as if the past two years never happened.

He shook his head vigorously to rid himself of the emotions and memories being here brought forth and pushed everything not pertaining to the real reason why he had traveled all the way here from Tokyo against his as well as Eiri’s better judgment aside. He hadn’t come here to reminisce. He was here because of his son. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Determined, Shuichi stood taller, squared his shoulders and continued to follow Narata confidently. He would convince Kizou to give a DNA sample for the paternity test and then he would go home and maybe convince Ryuichi to baby-sit little Takanori so that he could have a little time alone with Eiri. Yes, that sounded like a plan.

They rounded another corner and suddenly Kizou’s office was within view. It was the last door at the end of the hallway not more than fifteen feet away. His confidence suddenly evaporated. Shuichi lost his footing, but was able to catch himself before he made a complete spectacle of himself. The knowledge that with each (shaky) step forward, he was getting that much closer to his ex-lover and possibly the father of his son had his pulse racing. He gulped nervously.

This had been a bad idea. He should have stuck to his guns. What was the point of discovering whether Taki Aizawa was little Takanori’s biological father or not? Or whether or not his suspicions were justified? Eiri would, now and forever, be little Takanori’s father. That was it. End of story. There would be no prequel. No sequel. Nothing…

…But…

What about little Takanori? Was Eiri right? Would he want to know the truth when he was older? Maybe. Possibly. Or maybe Eiri was wrong. It was possible for Eiri to not be right all the time, whether Eiri wanted to admit it or not. There was always the chance that little Takanori might not want to know who his biological father was. Maybe the truth wouldn’t matter to him. Not everyone wanted to know the details surrounding their birth.

“Are you sure?”

Narata’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. Blinking, Shuichi glanced around and noticed that they were in front of Kizou’s office. Already? Not trusting himself to speak, he could only nod.

“Shu…” Narata sighed. He wasn’t too sure about any of this, but if this was what the other man wanted, who was he to stand in his way? “Okay. Wait here a sec.”

Shuichi merely nodded.

Narata continued to watch him, study him, for several silent seconds longer, before turning to knock sharply on the office door.

“Yes,” the muffled reply barked.

Narata opened the door, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him.

Shuichi gulped. This was nuts. This was seriously nuts. The urge to just turn tail and return to Tokyo and forget why he made the journey all the way out here in the first place almost too strong to ignore--almost. And that was just enough to keep his feet firmly planted.

The door opened and Narata, looking grim, appeared. He stepped aide and swung the door open. He waved him inside. “Kizou said he’ll see you.”

Sweating and a bundle of nerves, Shuichi squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and stepped into the office.

Here goes nothing.

 

**…To Be Continued…**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Okay, so technically “Karishma” is a girl’s name. It means “Miracle” in Sanskrit, but I picked it because in a way Shuichi’s birth was a miracle. I also think it’s a beautiful name.
> 
> (2) go to: davidsbridal.com and look for “chiffon halter” under bridal party
> 
> (3) You can read the whole essay at: http://www.queerchurch.org/notsinnotsickness.html
> 
> (4) The link I originally had for the Japanese wedding Kimonos is no longer active, but you can google "wedding kimonos" if you're interested.
> 
> A/N: I did not make up the part about strata. There are some (mostly those same religious extremists mentioned before) who believe that strata is formed during a cataclysmic event instead of over centuries. They compare it to having different colored sand in a glass jar, which when shaken, would settle into layers...


	5. A Thousand Words Never Said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For those of you wondering about the Roman Numerals (I, II, III), that is where the original chapter breaks were.

* * *

 

**Chapter 5: A Thousand Words Never Said**

**Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

It was too quiet.

Tatsuha glanced quickly over his shoulder. The door separating the hallway where he and his nephew (or was that step-grandson?) were playing from the living room where Ryuichi and Eiri were speaking was shut. He wished he knew what was going on in there. It was just too quiet. If he were in his brother’s shoes, he was not sure how he would react to such shocking news. Actually, scratch that. He did know because he had been where Eiri was at this very moment.

He had not taken the news very well, to say the least.

Here it was, five years after he learned about Ryuichi’s love child, and Tatsuha was only just beginning to understand and appreciate what a huge risk Ryuichi had been taking by confessing the secret he was being cuckolded into not only accepting but also keeping. Even though Ryuichi had completely understood the risk involved at the time, he still came clean.

_“I want there to be no secrets between us.”_

Doing so could have cost Ryuichi everything--quite literally--had it leaked (most likely from Tatsuha’s fat teenaged motor mouth) that he had gone against the contract he’d signed that prohibited him from speaking about “the incident”--as L8r Records had referred to it.

_“Me, too.”_

At the time, though, instead of being sympathetic towards Ryuichi’s plight (who’d been stuck between the Devil and the deep blue sea), he’d been so angry with him for keeping something “this, this HUGE!” from him.

_“I…I have a son.”_

The red rubber ball bounced off his thigh and hit the wall.

From the opposite end of the hallway, Little Takanori started jumping up and down with a big, toothy grin.

“Ready?” Tatsuha called to the two year old.

_“You have a what?”_

Little Takanori sat down on the floor and imitated Tatsuha by spreading his legs out in a V. “Ready,” he called back. At least that was what Tatsuha assumed was said. Sometimes, it was hard to tell. Shuichi never seemed to have any trouble understanding what his son was saying. Maybe it was a mother thing.

_“A son.”_

Using both hands, Tatsuha rolled the ball down the hall to little Takanori.

_“Yeah right.”_

At first, he hadn’t believed Ryuichi. Why would he? Everybody has secrets. It was inevitable. But pretending you liked a certain movie or food or something of that nature because you did not want to hurt your partner’s feelings was not the same as keeping the fact that you have a child a secret. Some lies can be worked through and around. Others not so much. When Ryuichi decided to ambush him with something as startling as “I have a son” after being together for over a year, really, how was he expected to react? With smiles and good cheer? He’d thought, at that point, the two of they had known everything there was to know about one another. Oh, how wrong he’d been.

_“I was thirteen when his mother got pregnant.”_

They’d been cuddling on the sofa late one night having a movie marathon of Inuyasha -The Movie one and two (at Ryuichi‘s insistence), Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, The Bourne Supremacy and Ryuichi had been trying to get him to watch The Notebook (which wasn’t going to happen even if what followed hadn’t of happened).

_“I was fourteen when he was born.”_

Call it by whatever name you wanted, but a surprise attack by any other name was still an ambush.

_“I was forced into giving him up by L8r Records.”_

He still hadn’t believed Ryuichi. There was no way he could. He did not want to know that Ryuichi had been lying to him all this time.

_“…Not funny, Ryu.”_

He’d heard horror stories before then from Ryuichi about what L8r Records had done in order to maintain such a “squeaky clean wholesome” image. Without the image, they believed they wouldn’t be able to compete in the music industry. At first, Tatsuha hadn’t believed the horror stories either. Surely, Ryuichi was exaggerating. Why type of company would be capable to doing such despicable things? But at album release parties, both Nittle Grasper’s as well as ones Nittle Grasper was invited to, and other functions thrown by L8r Records, he heard similar stories from other artists, so he’d been forced into believing they were true after all. As they weren’t called horror stories for nothing, Tatsuha to this day hoped there was some exaggeration involved. Either way, knowing what he knew about the infamous record company, it wasn‘t such a farfetched notion that they would force one of their artists to give up a child for adoption or force one to have an abortion. What he hadn’t been able to believe was that Ryuichi had, firstly, lied to him and, secondly, had had previous sexual partners, and at such an early age.

_“I wish it was.”_

While he was still trying to wrap his mind around the very real fact that Ryuichi had lied to him for not only the year they’d been together, but the entire length of time they’ve known one another, Ryuichi told him everything: from catching a glimpse of a cute older boy backstage in New York City to when Yuki threatened to jump off the roof of L8r Records several months later.

_“I’m sorry, Tatsuha.”_

If only sorry was enough, but it hadn’t been, not back then. He’d been young, naïve and stupid. They say wisdom comes with age. It was a cliché saying for a reason. It was true.

That night had been the first and only time he ever laid a hand on Ryuichi in violence. The press had had a field day when they spotted Ryuichi sporting bruises. L8r Records had been none too pleased either.

But if that was how he had reacted to the news, he wondered how his brother was doing.

 

* * *

 

In bold, black script at the top of the birth certificate was “Kyoto Memorial Medical Center”, which was the name of the hospital in which Shuichi was born.

At least that much had not been a lie.

Below that, “Kyoto City, Kyoto”, which was where the hospital was located, was printed in the same flowing script, albeit in smaller font.

A black and white photograph of what he was assuming was Kyoto Memorial Medical Center was centered underneath that.

Unlike the flimsy, paper thin, yellow certificate of registration he had discovered his son drawing all over, this one was a cream color, possibly discolored by age, and was nearly twice as large. The paper was of a much sturdier stock as well.

“This certifies that SHUICHI KARISHMA SAKUMA 7 lbs. 10 oz., 22 inches was born to MR. RYUICHI S. SAKUMA & YUKI O. KITAZAWA in this Hospital at 12:34 Pm on the SIXTEENTH day of APRIL 1992,” Eiri read.

At the bottom were places for the signatures of the attending physician as well as the president of the hospital. The line where the attending physician was supposed to sign was blank. In the left hand corner was a gold seal with the name of the hospital etched in raised script around the outer edge and a year in the center. He was assuming the date was the year the hospital was founded.

Even though he had the evidence in his hand, Eiri still could not believe it. He refused to believe it. It was too ludicrous to even dwell on. It should not even be a possibility to consider. It was like a story line from a soap opera. He was more likely to believe that this was Ryuichi’s idea of a sick joke then he was to believe this was an actuality. There was no way it could be true. Yes, he knew their situation was not a unique one. In fact, he’d heard something similar happened to actor Jack Nicholson. It was surprising how un-unique this whole affair was, but it was still one of those incidents that happened to other people and not you.

Next time on Maury, my brother is my father.

He could hear the redneck jokes now.

“Here.”

Eiri blinked up at Ryuichi when the older man shoved what turned out to be a photograph under his nose. It was a photo of a young Japanese male leaning against the side of a black sports car. It appeared to be a Mustang, but he was not certain. In the background was a brick wall covered in graffiti. He glanced from the picture to his brother-in-law (or was that father-in-law?) who was walking away from him towards the patio doors. “Who’s-?”

“It was June the first time I saw him,” Ryuichi interrupted as if he hadn’t heard Eiri. With his arms crossed over his chest, he stood before the sliding glass windows that opened onto a wrap around patio.

Him? As in the man in the photo? What did this guy have to do with Shuichi?

Wait!

Eiri glanced at the birth certificate he was still holding. Yuki O. Kitazawa. He’d seen the same name on the certificate of registration. Was this the Yuki Kitazawa in the photograph? Did that mean this man was Shuichi’s mother? If so, that meant Shuichi’s birth mother was a neutral.

“Just like mine,” he murmured.

“It was backstage at Radio City Music Hall for Ani-Con.”

“In New York City?”

Ryuichi nodded. The sun was out, but despite the sun’s rays that were washing over him, warming his skin, he felt cold. There was not a single cloud in sight. The sky was a deep blue that seemed to stretch endlessly. It should have been a breathtaking view. A flock of birds soared passed, vanishing out of sight, but what he saw was not Tokyo in summer, but events from eighteen years ago. “I didn’t get the chance to talk to him then. We were rushed out of the Hall right after our set. It wasn‘t until we were playing at Zepp Tokyo a couple weeks later that I actually got to meet him.”

Eiri’s head snapped up and around at that. There was a look of incredulity on his face. “He followed you from America to Japan?”

Again, Ryuichi nodded.

That should have raised a series of red flags. Obviously, it hadn’t given the events that followed. Seeing Ryuichi had been only thirteen at the time, Eiri could see why Ryuichi wouldn’t have thought twice about him just suddenly reappearing. “And he’s…?”

“Yuki Kitazawa. He’s…” Ryuichi ran his tongue over lips gone dry. His mouth was parched. “He’s Shu’s mother. His birth mother,” he corrected.

“He’s a neutral?” It was more statement than question.

“I didn’t know that until much later though.”

Eiri’s eye twitched. He swallowed the retort that was clawing it’s up his throat. How could you not know? Those words were demanding to be let out, but he could not very well ask that question when he’d overlooked that very same fact when he first met Shuichi--Tohma still teased him mercilessly about that--and he’d been twenty-two at the time. Ryuichi had barely been out of diapers.

“There is a clear difference, is there not, Eiri?”

“We had one night,” Ryuichi whispered. “One.”

“That’s all it takes,” Eiri said back.

Ryuichi nodded. That was for sure. One night changed his life forever. Dropping his arms, he turned away from the breathtaking sight of the city. On a glass shelving unit against the far wall was a photograph in a faux wood frame. He crossed over to the unit and picked up the photograph.  He ran a finger over the protective sheet of glass.  Shuichi was one year old in the picture.  Sitting in a brown cardboard box in the middle of his parents’ living room with a big red bow in his hair, it was the type of bow placed on top of presents, surrounded by a sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces.  He remembered Shuichi had been more interested in the boxes the presents had come in than the cards or the money or even what was inside the boxes.

“Do you love him?”

Ryuichi shook his head.

“Did you?”

Sighing, Ryuichi set the photo back on the shelf. “I’m…not sure.” That was the truth. Sometimes he thought the answer was yes and other times it was a vehement no. There was one fact he knew for certain was true. “I was attracted to him.” Rounding the dining table, he stepped down from the raised platform and crossed the living room to the armchair opposite Eiri on the sofa.

He could still remember that night at Zepp Tokyo. After the show, he’d stepped offstage with Tohma and Noriko in tow, still riding the high from a very successful concert opening for Peace District (which eventually disbanded after four unsuccessful follow up albums), and there He was, leaning casually against the far wall, acting and looking as if he belonged. Their eyes met, locked and everybody else in that instant vanished. He’d walked up to that boy, not hearing Tohma or Noriko or their manager calling out to him, said, “Hi” and until the sun rose the next morning, there’d been nothing and nobody else other than Yuki.

“Then what?” Eiri prodded.

Ryuichi sighed. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I left before he woke up.”

Part of him still felt guilty about doing such a cowardly thing, but he’d been a virgin before meeting Yuki--in every sense of the word--and he’d been…He’d woken up after a night of passion and after the realization set in that he’d just spent the night having sex with some guy he didn’t even know, there’d been such an intense feeling of regret that he’d let his hormones do all the thinking and that he‘d allowed this much older boy to seduce him that he‘d felt literally sick to his stomach. Part of him had been ashamed that he‘d so such a thing with another man, ashamed that another man could make him feel this way. He woke a very different kid than when he walked into the hotel room and that had scared him. It was all too much too fast.

“Yuki…What I didn’t know at the time was that Yuki had become obsessed with me after that concert in New York so he wasn‘t going to just let me walk away. He started showing up everywhere I was and try to talk to me, but I just kept brushing him off, pretended I didn’t even know who he was.”

If only he’d known…!

…But what if he had known? Then what? What would he have done? Honestly, if he would have realized just how unstable Yuki really was, he might never have slept with him. But if he wouldn’t have slept with him then Shuichi…Ryuichi had to force himself to swallow around the knot in his throat. His son never would have been born. The horror of that scenario was not one in which Ryuichi wanted to dwell upon. He shuddered at the endless possibilities.

Go back in time and stop yourself from killing a fly and a tsunami washes an island nation out of existence.

Maybe if he would have confronted the changes taking place within him instead of running away…?

No.  Even if he had accepted the truth of whom and what he really was back then, it wouldn’t have changed anything. Yuki was mentally unstable.  That much was made crystal clear when he stood on that narrow almost non-existent ledge on the roof of L8r Records and threatened to jump if Ryuichi did not do what he said.  Yes.  Nothing would have changed.  If he would have run away with him…if he would have taken the hand that had been outstretched towards him…if he would have given in to those large, pleading violet eyes, eyes their son had inherited…Eventually something similar would have happened again.  The next time something happened that Yuki did not agree with, they would be back to where they started.  Only things might not have ended the same way.

“I didn’t even find it weird that he seemed to show up everywhere I was. I mean, we were starting to make a name for ourselves and it’s not as if he was the only one. There was always a crowd of fans and paparazzi that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. It didn’t matter where we were. It wasn’t until later that I realized he was stalking me. At one point, he even tried blackmailing me into going out with him.”

Ryuichi scrubbed his hands over his face. He was tired. God was he tired. Maybe it was a good thing the truth had been discovered.

“Eventually, I grew tired of his crap and agreed to meet with him. I told him that I wasn’t interested. That we’d had one night and that was it. That I’d moved on…After that, I didn’t hear from him again. Occasionally I would find a letter or something on my doorstep, or it would arrive at the studio, and sometimes it felt as if I was being followed, but I never noticed anybody in particular and it never escalated, so I thought maybe I was just being paranoid, or something, and that maybe he’d actually gotten the message.”

Silence greeted the end of monologue, interrupted occasionally by the low murmur of Tatsuha’s voice and laughter from little Takanori.

“Seeing you didn’t know Yuki was a neutral, you didn’t know-?”

“That he was pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“No.” Ryuichi shook his head. “I had no idea. It wasn’t until he showed up at L8r Records that January during a snow storm, six months pregnant, that I realized the truth.”

The truth being that not only was Yuki a neutral and expecting their child come April, but he was clinically insane. He was willing to do whatever it took in order to make sure Ryuichi’s eyes were always on him.

Standing there on the ledge hurling threats in the middle of a blizzard without shoes, without a coat or any sort of protection against the extremely, paralyzing winter weather except for a pair of jeans and a short sleeved T-shirt. One minute he was the boy he’d made sweet love with that night back in the summer. Just a boy pleading to be given a second chance.

_“Love me Ryu! Please! Whatever I did, I’m sorry! I’ll change! I’ll-I’ll…I’ll do whatever it is you want. Please! Just give me a second chance!”_

And then the next, Yuki would undergo a transformation. It wasn’t a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde sort of metamorphosis. Physically he would remain the same boy who had just been full of so much remorse. What would change were the eyes. There would be this crazed, insane look to them suddenly and it was in those moments that you knew. You just knew. He was crazy. He was most definitely crazy. The threats he was spewing were not idle ones. He means exactly what he is saying.

_“If you don’t love me, Ryu, if you don’t say we can be a family, I swear in front of all these witnesses that I will jump!”_

Though it happened so long ago, Ryuichi could remember that dreadful day so clearly. Other than the day Shuichi was born, it was one of the clearest memories he had. One that he wished he did not have any recollection of. That day he very nearly lost everything before he even realized he had it all. He could remember thinking at that moment that he would say whatever it was that Yuki wanted to hear. He would do whatever was needed of him if it meant stopping Yuki from jumping. It wasn’t as if he had any special feelings for Yuki. Not really. Or at least that was what he’d told himself then (and still did); especially after Yuki had turned around at the sound of his voice-

_“Yuki! What the hell are you doing?”_

-and he’d seen first hand the pregnancy-swollen belly. There’d been no doubt in his mind that the child Yuki was carrying was his. After all, it was he Yuki had been obsessing over. Yes, Ryuichi may have come to terms with his attraction to boys (he’d still refused to believe that he wasn’t also attracted to girls at this point), but one had nothing to do with the other. He just hadn’t been ready for that sort of relationship. Not yet. But that did not mean that he wanted Yuki to die. Besides, he’d been so confused! He’d thought, up to that point, that Yuki had been a normal male, but seeing his engorged belly…Everything changed in an instant.

_“No! Yuki, please!”_

He’d said it. The promise had been made and in front of half of L8r Records. Would Yuki believe him and come down from off the ledge or would he call his bluff? For an instant, when their eyes met and Yuki smiled, he truly believed Yuki believed him, but then….

Thank God for Eiji. If the aging security guard would not have been there when Yuki stepped off the ledge…

Ryuichi shuddered. That was something he refused to think about.

At first, he’d thought maybe Yuki had simply lost his balance. The ledge had been quite narrow after all. But that wasn’t the case. Looking back as the man he was now, he realized something that he hadn’t--or maybe refused to acknowledge--back then. Yuki really had been set on jumping from the very beginning. He’d gone to L8r Records deliberately, knowing that was where Ryuichi was working on Nittle Grasper’s new album. There’d been no bluff involved. It hadn’t been a scheme to simply garner his attention. To Yuki, it hadn’t mattered that he was pregnant. Nothing would have budged him from that ledge. Nothing. Not even hearing Ryuichi proclaim his love. Ryuichi could have promised Yuki the moon and it wouldn’t have changed anything. In Yuki’s mind, his affections had been scorned and ridiculed and ignored and mocked one too many times. His heart had been torn out and ripped in two. Jumping, and making sure it was in front of plenty of witnesses that would know of the cold-heartedness that was Ryuichi Sakuma, would serve as a lifelong sentence for the crimes Ryuichi had committed against him.

It’d been the look in those violet eyes. The eyes of a madman had been looking back at him. It turned the smile of gratitude into a sinister smile. All Yuki had been waiting for was the signal and Ryuichi’s agreement-

_“I’ll do anything! Whatever you want! Just please, come down from there! Please!”_

-had been that signal.

“What happened to him?”

With tears he wasn’t even aware he was shedding, Ryuichi whispered around the lump in his throat, “The same place he’s been ever since: Yowa Hospital.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar.

“It’s a psychiatric hospital here in Tokyo.”

Eiri stared down at his husband’s birth certificate, but what he saw wasn’t the cream-colored certificate with its flowing, black script. His mind was elsewhere. At the same time, it was nowhere. It was a lot to take in and a lot to think about, but he did not want to think about it. The tale was so incredibly preposterous and nonsensical that he had no other choice but to believe it.

But there was one aspect Ryuichi hadn’t touched upon yet. If he truly was Shuichi’s biological father and this Yuki character who was locked up in some looney bin was his birth mother, then why was it that Shuichi believed the Shindous were his parents?

“Ya know…”

Ryuichi’s soft voice broke through Eiri’s thoughts.

“I’m not sure if Yuki set out to do this deliberately, but…” Once again, Ryuichi ran his tongue along his dry lips.

_“Is that what you want, huh, Ryuichi Sakuma? Because I swear to God that I will jump and take your son with me! Do you want that on your conscience? Huh? Just one little promise Ryu! Please!”_

Making that announcement with half of L8r Records on that roof behind him was the catalyst that eventually forced him into signing away his parental rights to his only child.

“What the hell do you mean you were forced to sign away your rights?”

Tired, Ryuichi sighed. It was going to be a very long day.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Mai was not sure how long she has been standing in front of the glass enclosed entrance or how many people have come and gone since she arrived however long ago it was. The same doubts and reservations kept plaguing her. They kept buzzing around her head like annoying flies, keeping her from taking those final steps needed to finish the journey she had started so early this morning. Like the flies they were imitating, she’d swat at them and for a brief moment, there would be a reprieve, but then they’d return with a bunch of their friends.

Would coming here turn out to be a huge mistake? She was so worried that when Shuichi saw her standing there at his door, all the misery, the feelings of abandonment and the extreme loneliness that used to possess his every waking moment would come flooding back just as he was finally learning to smile. From what she saw in the magazines and in the tabloids and on those various entertainment news programs, Shuichi seemed to be genuinely happy and she did not want to be the reason why the smile that had captured all of Japan was wiped from his face.

She could not be prouder of her son.

Ever since he was little, Shuichi wanted to be a singer like his big brother. Nothing else had ever interested him. He’d go around the house pretending his hairbrush was a microphone singing at the top of his lungs along with the radio or one of the countless Nittle Grasper CDs Ryuichi had given him. Of course, Morihiro had been none too pleased with Shuichi’s chosen ambition of walking in Ryuichi’s footsteps, but it had only been because he’d wanted him to not go without. There was no guarantees in the music business. Talented people like Shuichi were either trampled over or chewed up and spit out daily. But Shuichi had beaten the odds and here he was the lead singer of his very own band, a pop/rock band that was rising in popularity a little more each day. It was a dream come true. Not only was he living his dream, but he was also married to a wonderful man who seemed to worship the ground he walked on. They even had a son and were expecting another child sometime in the new year.

It was because he seemed happier now than she’s ever seen him that she was questioning whether this was a good idea. Maybe she should just turn right back around and head home?

_“Funny. He always said his mother was locked away in some loony bin.”_

That was right.

She had to speak to him, if for nothing more then to ask him what he’d meant by that. First, she had to know if he’d actually said it. If it turned out he had, then to whom was he referring? His birth mother? Or had it just been some lie spewed by an over protective neighbor? Or had it been a lie he himself told in order to glaze over the fact that they’d had a falling out? She’d never been told the details surrounding Shuichi’s conception and subsequent birth, so she was not sure if Shuichi’s birth mother was actually locked up in some psychiatric institution or not. What if she was? How would Shuichi know? Had Ryuichi decided to tell him the truth? With L8r Records’ demise, Ryuichi was now free to do so, but he would give her a head’s up first…Right?

She shook her head to clear it. Either way, this was something she had to know.

Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath to calm her suddenly racing heart and strode confidently across the sidewalk towards the glass enclosed front entrance to the condominium complex. It did not occur to her that Tohma Seguchi had chosen this particular building specifically for its secured front entrance for his family as she reached the door, thus making it impossible for her to enter unless she had a key or was buzzed in, because just as she reached the doors, a gentleman in a black business suit stepped out into the humid afternoon. Seeing her coming, the man held the door open graciously for her.

She thanked him.

The man bowed politely in return before vanishing amidst the lunch crowd.

Mai stepped into the air-conditioned building, shivering at the sudden change in temperature, and walked confidently across the lobby with its gleaming marble surfaces for the elevator bank. The call button lit up when she pressed it. As she waited, she pulled out the crumbled piece of paper out of her purse on which she had written the address her daughter had given her. They lived on the eighth floor apparently.

A pinging echoed suddenly into the silence.

When the elevator doors slid open, Mai stepped into the car and pushed the button for her son’s floor. As the door slid shut, she prayed that Shuichi was home and was willing to see her.

Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan

They were staring wordlessly at each other over the cherry wood desk when Narata entered fifteen minutes later with tea. Tension hung in the air so thick he could taste it. It coated his tongue and left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. It was almost like a rolling fog. The kind often referred to as “pea soup”. It moves in so swiftly and so quietly that before you know it, you find yourself lost in a white void of nothingness. It was a wall behind which everything vanishes and it was making him extremely nervous. Maybe agreeing to allow Shuichi to meet with Kizou had been a bad idea.

Clearing his throat lightly, garnering Kizou’s immediate attention, he entered the office carrying a black lacquered tea tray. On the tray was a white ceramic teapot with sprigs of pink cherry blossom branches on the side as well as on the lid. Beside the teapot were two matching teacups (1).

“Ah! Narata,” Kizou greeted warmly. “Thank you.”

“Sir,” Narata inclined his head in return. He set the tea tray down on a free spot on the desk and poured Kizou a cup of tea first. Next, he turned towards Shuichi, but the singer shook his head. It was not lost on him that both Kizou as well as Shuichi looked relieved at his return.

This was going to be a long visit.

“Not thirsty?” Kizou asked.

Narata stiffened.

To those who did not know Kizou well, it would only sound as if he was simply asking a question in order to satisfy his curiosity. Maybe he was just concerned about the comfort of his guest. A host must be gracious to his guest after all. But to those who did know him, as both Narata and Shuichi did, they heard the carefully veiled underlining note.

Kizou blew gently at the steaming liquid. “Or is it you don’t trust me?” He took a tentative sip. “This is very good, by the way, Narata.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Shuichi glanced down at his clenched hands in his lap through an abrupt blur of tears. A well of sadness engulfed him at the biting words tossed so casually at him. He understood now that what Kizou did two years ago--spewing those harsh words, dragging him bodily from the house and tossing him half-naked (and pregnant) into the street--had been for his own good.  It was not because Kizou had truly hated him.  No, it was not something Kizou had wanted to do, but it was something he had chosen to do because he’d felt it was necessary.  It was only now that Shuichi could understand and appreciate everything this man did for him.  Kizou did what he did because he’d loved him and only wanted was best for him, but now, he was not so sure.  Had the love Kizou use to have for him turned into bitter hatred?

Sniffling, Shuichi slowly lifted his head and gazed across the desk at his ex-lover and possible father to his son.

He studied Kizou. In the two years since he was forcibly evicted, Kizou seemed to have aged. He looked more like he was sixty-five rather than the forty-something he really was (or claimed to be). There were lines in places there hadn’t been before, especially around those slightly pinched and up tilted golden eyes that were so much like little Takanori‘s. His mocha brown hair appeared to be thinning and even had sprinkling of gray throughout. There was several days worth of growth along Kizou’s chin and jaw. Even sitting down, it was obvious how tall Kizou was. Shuichi was not sure how tall exactly Kizou was, but he was definitely taller than Eiri and Eiri was six feet tall. Kizou really did look haggard and worn out, as if he was being stretched too thin. A rubber band can only stretch so far and that was what Kizou reminded him of now: a rubber band on the verge of snapping.

“Doctor’s orders: no caffeine,” he said, choosing to ignore the biting retort. He cleared his throat violently.

Narata glanced down at the younger man. Shuichi was trying to hide it, but it was obvious that he had been hurt by not so much what Kizou said, but by what was not said.

“Hm.” Kizou settled back in his chair behind the desk with his cup of tea. The look on his face clearly said he did not completely believe the answer he’d been given.

“Would you like some juice then?” Narata spoke up. “Or-?”

Shuichi shook his head. “No, thanks.”

Narata inclined his head. “If that’ll be all then…?”

“Yes, thank you,” Kizou dismissed the ex-police officer.

With a bow, Narata escaped as quickly as he could without it being blatantly obvious that he was doing so. He threw one last glance over his shoulder just before shutting the door behind him. “Good luck Shuichi,” he whispered.

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

**  
**   


**Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

When the elevator came to a stop, Mai Shindou felt her stomach bounce up into her chest and then back down. There was a momentary feeling of weightlessness that accompanied the temporary relocation of her internal organs. She wondered if she would ever get used to it. Shaking off the slightly nauseated feeling, she pushed away from the back wall, unclamping her death grip from the railing, just as a ping resounded. The doors slid open to reveal a brightly lit hallway carpeted in medium burgundy tweed. The walls were painted a tan khaki color. Every several feet there was a wall sconce.

Stepping out of the elevator, she glanced around to get her bearings as the elevator doors slid shut behind her. The crumbled piece of paper that she had scribbled her son’s address on was even more rumbled now than had it had been earlier thanks to her death grip on the railing during her brief ride in the fright car. Maybe she should have put in her purse. If their condominium wasn’t on the eight floor, she would have used the stairs instead of taking the elevator. She wasn’t too fond of elevators, not since she was seven and ended up being stuck in one with her parents during an earthquake. She had never before or since been so terrified. It wasn’t to say she now had a phobia of elevators or of tight confined spaces all together. She just was not a very big fan.

Smoothing out the rumbled piece of paper as best she could, she read the apartment number several times to make sure she had it, and then glanced around. There. It was the door at the end of the hall to her left.

Folding the paper, she slid it into her purse and gathering herself, took a deep breath and forced her feet to start moving.

The more steps she took, the longer that distance seemed to become. She kept chanting repeatedly in her head, “I can do this.” But the closer she got to her son’s door, the more the chant wanted to become, “I can’t do this.” But she steeled herself and her nerves and chased away the doubts.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she stood before the door. The gold numerals glistened as the sunlight streaming in through the windows that lined the hall behind her hit them.

Fixing her purse strap that did not seem to want to stay in one place, giving her hair a little fluff and smoothing out her clothes so they lay straight and neat, she raised a trembling hand to knock.

“Hello? Miss?” called out a soft female voice behind her.

Startled, Mai spun around. Standing behind her was an older woman. It was hard to tell how old the woman was, but she had to be over sixty at least. Her black hair, sprinkled with gray, was secured in a tight bun. She was wearing black dress slacks, a white blouse and carrying a gray carrier. Beady little eyes stared back at her through the bars. “Hello,” she returned with a polite bow.

“If you’re here to see Mr. Uesugi or Mr. Shindou, you just missed them.”

Mai felt disappointment swell within her.  They were gone?  Oh, no!  Here she was, proud of herself, if not slightly sick to her stomach with nerves, that she’d finally been able to gather the courage to come and speak with her son (or to at least try) and possibly get to know her son-in-law and grandson and they weren’t even home.  How typically cliché and ironic.  Now what was she supposed to do?  It had been so hard to come here today.  So very hard.  Harder than she wanted to have to admit.  She’d nearly chickened out several times since she left the house this morning, but she’d taken a big girl pill and beaten back her fears in order to be here, to try and work things out with Shuichi before it was too late.  But the welcoming effects of the big girl pill were starting to wear off.  She could feel her fears returning.  Her courage was failing her.  There was no way she would be able to return later when they were home.  “O-Oh?”

“Said something about visiting relatives.”

Relatives? Mai latched onto the tidbit of information. Did that mean Ryuichi? “They didn’t happen to say which?”

“Sorry.”

The tiny spark of hope burst. Disappointment rushed in to take its place. “Thank you very much.” She should have known it was too good to be true.

The older woman bowed in return and took her leave.

Her hands clasped demurely before her, Mai pondered. Now what? It seemed ridiculous to turn around and head back home after coming this far, but just like she and Shuichi, she and Ryuichi had their own set of issues. There was no way Ryuichi would allow her to see Shuichi, if that was where he even went. No amount of begging or pleading would get her in through that door. The trust Ryuichi had bestowed upon her to take care of his only son had been shattered, the pieces tossed back into his face. He was never going to forgive her--ever. While there was a slim possibility of having some sort of relationship with Shuichi, there was absolutely no possibility she would ever be able to repair her relationship with Ryuichi. Some sins cannot be forgiven.

 

* * *

 

**Ryugan Temple - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

“Make sure to bring the tea to your father before it gets cold,” Mrs. Usami called over her shoulder to her daughter as she slipped into her loafers.

“Of course, Mother,” Ayaka said from the foot of the stairs.

“Try not to bother him too much,” Mrs. Usami continued as she shouldered her oversized straw bag. “He’s supposed to be meeting with Mr. Raikatuji and his fiancée.”

Torao Raikatuji and his high school sweetheart, Moanna Hyobanshi, had finally gotten engaged--much to the delight of both of their parents--after being together--off and on--since they were teenagers. They had chosen to be married here at the Ryugan Temple by her father next spring, but before the ceremony can take place, it is mandatory that all couples meet with the priest who is to be their officiate for pre-marital counseling (2).

“I won’t.”

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay.”

Ayaka crossed to the front window and watched as her mother strode down the front walk to the street, stopping briefly to say hello to their neighbor, Mrs. Nozaki, before vanishing out of sight. Ayaka turned to the phone sitting on the elm wood thirteen drawer buffet table that her father had inherited from his great grandmother (3). Her slim fingers flew over the keys, dialing a number she knew by heart. Why wouldn’t she? Soon it would be her in-law’s phone number. It only rang three times before the line was picked up and a familiar voice spoke. “Hello, Ms. Mika.”

There was a brief pause. “Ayaka?”

Ayaka giggled. “How are you? It‘s been a while.”

Another pause. “Yeah, I suppose it has.”

“I have a quick question for you.”

“For me?” This was said with surprise.

“If you don’t mind that is.”

“No. No. I guess not. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you know Eiri, right?”

There was a snort. “He is my brother so I should hope so.”

“Well, I was wondering if you would know if he would prefer a traditional wedding or a more Western one.”

Silence greeted her inquiry. It went on for so long uninterrupted that Ayaka was beginning to wonder if maybe they hadn’t been disconnected.

“Why are you bringing this up?” Mika finally asked.

“Why? Silly! Because I wouldn’t want to offend Eiri on our wedding day by walking down the aisle in a modern wedding dress if he would prefer me in a traditional wedding kimono.”

The silence this time was longer, but finally Mika spoke up. Speaking carefully and with deliberate precision, she said, “Ayaka, dear, you do know that your betrothal to my brother was called off?”

Ayaka’s smile slipped slightly, but she caught it before it fell completely. “Nonsense,” she brushed aside lightly.

“…Ayaka-”

“Really, Ms. Mika. There isn’t any need to pretend any longer. I know the truth.”

“Truth?”

“Of course! When Shindou got pregnant, Eiri had no other option but to marry him. It is the proper gentlemanly thing to do after all. I would never expect anything less from someone as modest as Eiri.” A rush of anger coursed through her at the thought of Shuichi Shindou. Stupid Shindou! Trapping her Eiri into a loveless marriage like that! That tramp! Slut! Whore! Apparently, that Aizawa guy hadn’t been enough for him. No, Shindou had to go after Eiri as well. There was no telling for whom else that little bitch spread eagle. There could be dozens, hundreds even! The possibilities were endless when it came to who had fathered little Takanori. That poor boy. Having to grow up with a mother like that.

“…Ayaka, I don’t know where you got that, but Eiri is happily married to Shuichi. He never intended to marry you. Besides, when Eiri decided to defy the family by marrying Shuichi instead of going through with the betrothal with you, he was readily disowned. He is no longer of any concern to the family,” Mika stated pointblank. “My brother has moved on and so should you,” she added in a more gentle tone.

“Never.” The smile had all but vanished. A determined gleam flashed in her eyes. “Eiri was promised to me.”

“Ayaka-”

“Eiri is mine and I will not give up until he is. No matter what it takes, Eiri will be mine.”

 

* * *

 

**Seguchi Residence - Tokyo Midtown Residence - Tokyo**

Mika pulled the phone away from her ear and stared down at it. A mixture of emotions flashed across her face.

This was not good.

Like the majority of the family, when Eiri turned down the arranged betrothal with Ayaka Usami in favor of Shindou--who turned out to not only be a neutral, but already pregnant with his ex-lover’s child--she’d believed her little brother’s relationship with the pregnant teen could only end one way: in disaster.

Their mother had abandoned them not long after Eiri and Tatsuha were born. That knowledge that he had been abandoned and rejected by the one person who was supposed to love him unconditionally had greatly affected Eiri, even more so than it had either she or Tatsuha. The fact that their mother was in fact a neutral had only added to his growing prejudices. Those same feelings remained with him even today, though to a lesser degree, but they were still there in the shadows just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Before Shuichi entered her brother’s life, the prejudices within her brother had kept him from entering a committed relationship. What was the point? To Eiri there’d been no point in getting close to someone who was just going to abandon him in the end anyway. And when it came to neutrals…They’d been a waste of space. Immoral. Disgusting. An insult to everything being human meant.

But then Shuichi came along and her brother seemed to change virtually over night.

The scandal of Eiri’s relationship with Shuichi had been kin to blasphemy. It brought about dishonor and embarrassment for their entire family--according to their grandmother anyway. Her father had not had any opinion either way. He’d also kept his peace when their grandmother--the overbearing matriarch of the Uesugi family--had decided to disown Eiri when it became known that Eiri had actually adopted little Takanori as well as married the child‘s mother. Up until then, there had been some spark of hope left in the family that maybe Eiri would “come around”. Mika, at first, had been just as irate as well as worried that being involved with Shuichi would bring more harm than good to her brother, but her opinion changed the first time she’d seen them together. It was obvious that the two of them were very much in love.

She could not be happier for Eiri.

So where did that leave Ayaka Usami? Mika had believed that the girl had moved on after the betrothal was cancelled. What reason was there to linger on someone who did not return your feelings? There was a quote she’d read somewhere that said, “Just because someone else likes you doesn’t mean you’ll like them back. I don’t think you have to. No matter how wonderful that person is, or how great they are (4).” Everybody dreaded been turned down by the person they loved and had a crush on. And moving on after being dumped was easier said than done, but it had to be done. It was not going to do a person any good to remain affixed on someone who did not intend to ever return their feelings.

And what was this nonsense about Eiri being promised to her? Mika could remember no such thing taking place. They’d been betrothed. Nothing more. Nothing less. It wasn’t as if the Usamis and her father had set up an arranged marriage. One had nothing to do with the other. Not in these modern times anyway. Ayaka only would have married Eiri if Eiri had accepted her. That was what a betrothal was. Even if Shindou had not appeared, Eiri still would have turned the offer to marry Ayaka down. That was the type of man her little brother had been back them.

Ayaka has always had a crush on Eiri, ever since they were little. At first, they used to be good friends, buddies. Then Ayaka had become too clingy. It was a major turn off for Eiri, who’d stopped hanging out with the girl soon after. Of course, Ayaka had not seemed to understand that she was unwanted. It was apparent she still didn’t.

A buzzing sound tore her out of her thoughts. It was coming from the phone. She replaced the receiver. Her hand still on the slick white handset, she pondered whether or not to inform her husband of this…worrying, she decided, phone call. It could be nothing at all. Empty promises. Empty threats. But what if it wasn‘t?

That was when her mind leaped to that woman that has been all over the news. What was her name? Mami? Nana? Mari? Nari? Whatever. It was something along those lines. She was from some sort of left wing Christian rag or some such nonsense. Probably one of those conspiracy nut jobs. Saw shadows where there weren’t any.

_“Whatever it takes.”_

She wondered…

Picking up the phone, she dialed her husband’s cellphone. There was no point in dialing his office number. He was rarely there.

He answered after the first ring. “Mika, darling. What-?”

“I just had an…enlightening conversation with Ayaka Usami,” she said, interrupting him.

 

* * *

 

**NG Productions - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Tohma frowned as his wife outlined her phone call with Eiri’s ex-betrothed. In all honesty, he had forgotten all about Miss Ayaka Usami. He wanted to reassure his wife that she was indeed making something out of nothing. That there was nothing to be worried about. For some reason, he could not bring himself to say those things. It felt like empty promises.

He did not really know all that much about Miss Usami. What he did know was that she and Eiri used to be friends once upon a time and that she was the only child of a couple who ran the Ryugan Temple. Other then at the get-together several years ago when Mr. Uesugi had tried to set his son up with Ayaka, he’d seen her maybe two other times. Each time, she’d come off as a nice girl, if a bit on the quiet side. This girl Mika was describing seemed like a very different person from the one he’d met.

“So?”

Good question.

NG Productions was in sight. He headed towards the underground parking garage.

“There’s not much I can do, but I’ll have a talk with her.” That, unfortunately, was the most he could do at the present time. Unless, that is, she tried something, which, God forbid, she wouldn’t, but if it came to that and she did try something, then hopefully, it wouldn’t be too late for him to act. He would never forgive himself if something were to happen to his family.

“Tohma…”

His wife did not sound pleased. Who could blame her?

“My hands are tied, Mika, but like I said, I’ll try talking with her.”

There was sigh. Then, “At least keep an eye on her just in case?”

That he could do, especially if it turned out she was indeed in league with that Nami Mataguchi. He just hoped that was not the case. A cornered animal was a very dangerous animal.

 

* * *

 

**Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

Scared--no, not scared, terrified. Shuichi was absolutely terrified.

“So, Shindou,” came the gruff, husky voice, breaking through the heavy silence that had followed Narata’s exit.

Shuichi jumped at the suddenness. He was glad in that instant that he had turned down the offer of tea. Otherwise, it would be all over him instead of in him. How uncouth would that have been, especially in front of an ex-lover?

It was not by the doctor’s orders that he was not allowed caffeine, for his doctor had said it was alright in moderation. Eiri was the culprit responsible for forbidding him to consume anything sweet (unless by sweet Eiri was referring to himself) or caffeinated beverages. Surprisingly, even decaffeinated beverages had some caffeine in them, so they were not an option either. Eiri was such a party pooper. When it came to Shuichi’s ingestion of food and drink during his pregnancies, Eiri turned into a ruthless dictator. It was sweet, but at the same time very aggravating.

“Or is it…What was that guy’s name? Yuki?”

“That’s his pen name,” Shuichi answered automatically.

“Ah!”

“And no, I didn’t change my name.”

“So noted.”

Silence fell once again. It was shattered only by the sounds of Kizou sipping his tea.

“Was there something you wanted? Or did you come back for the…stimulating conversation?”

Hot tears prickling his violet eyes, Shuichi blushed hotly, but said nothing. He stared down at his hands clenched tightly in his lap. How was he supposed to bring up something like what he had traveled all the way to Kyoto to say? He was not sure why he just couldn’t come right out and say, “I think little Takanori is your son.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. If it were-

The sound of choking coughing forced him out of his thoughts. When several droplets of liquid landed on his hand, another on his cheek, he lifted his gaze. Panic and a surge of adrenaline rushed through him immediately at the sight of Kizou. The man was red-faced. His golden eyes were wide and glistening with moisture. “Oh my God!” He pushed to his feet. Was he choking? “Kiz-!”

“I’m fine,” Kizou managed to say between his coughing fits.

Biting his lip, Shuichi glanced over his shoulder at the closed office door. Should he go find Narata? Was anybody else awake at this hour? Probably not. Maybe he should call 911. Or-?

“What was that,” there was another series of coughs, “about your son being mine?”

Shuichi went completely still. His violet eyes went wide. All thought fled his mind. He even forgot how to breathe. Had he actually said that out loud? Dear God. He hadn’t meant to! “I-I don’t,” he stuttered without meeting Kizou‘s penetrating gaze.

“Don’t even start Shuichi Shindou,” Kizou snapped. He coughed again. “You better sit your ass down and start explaining yourself. Now!”

Wincing at the irate tone, Shuichi’s mind raced along at lightening speed as it tried to search for a way out of his sudden predicament. He could not help but feel as if he had somehow been transported back in time to that fateful day when, drunk off a single beer, he had opened his mouth to admit to something that he’d been suspicious about for some time, but had been too afraid to prove either way.

“Shuichi!”

Swallowing a gasp, Shuichi jumped. What was said was said. There was no way he could take any of it back now. What was the point in trying to come up with an excuse to explain what he had let slip? Was this not why he’d come here to see Kizou in the first place?

Clasping his hands over his belly, he rubbed slow, lazy circles in an effort to calm and sooth the suddenly agitated residents.

A stray tear rolled down his cheek. If asked, he would not be able to say why he was crying. Hormones? Or something else? Was it Kizou? Had he, subconsciously, come here in the hopes that everything would be as it had been before? Was he hurt because of the cold callousness he was being shown?

Kizou grabbed a napkin from the lacquered tray and started mopping up his tea spittle. It had even landed on the invoice. Great. Just great. This was all he needed.

The sound of sniffling caught his attention. He lifted his golden gaze to Shuichi. His anger dwindled slightly as he took in his ex-lover’s defeated and silent posture. Frowning, he balled up the wet napkin and tossed it into the trashcan beside his desk. He had forgotten how sensitive Shuichi was, especially now that he was pregnant.

Sighing, he retook his seat. “So. What‘s this about little Takanori being my son,” he asked again in a gentler tone. When Shuichi turned to face him, he wasn’t surprised to see tears coursing down his face. The sight had his heart breaking. “What makes you think he’s mine?”

Silence.

Kizou sighed again. As much as he would love to be able to father children, to admit that yes, Shuichi may in fact be correct. Little Takanori Uesugi may well in fact be his. Unfortunately, from prior experience, he knew it to be impossible. It was an exercise in futility to even dream such an outlandish possibility was more than just a dream. He could not have children. No amount of wishing, hoping or praying was ever going to change that fact. Life had dealt him a double whammy. First, he’d always had a low sperm count; one of his doctors blamed his lifestyle as one of the possible reasons, or more accurately, the stress of his chosen lifestyle. Then, when he underwent treatment for testicular cancer, the results of the radiation had not only dissipated the cancerous growth but had also ended up cutting his production of sperm down even more. So, while technically it was possible for him to father children, it was unlikely.

Scrubbing at his wet face, Shuichi reached for his bag and searched among the rubbage for his wallet. When he finally found it, he pulled a small wallet sized photograph from the back pocket.

“While I’m flattered to be in contention as your son’s father, unfortunately, that is not-What’s this?” he interrupted, eying what Shuichi was holding out to him.

There was a determined gleam in the younger man’s face as he shoved the picture towards Kizou.

Shock rocked him to his feet when it took what turned out to be a photograph. “What the hell?! Where the hell did you get this,” he demanded. Burning golden eyes turned to face Shuichi. He took in the wince, the slightly crestfallen expression intermingled with confusion, but ignored it. The face staring back at him from the picture was one he had not seen in more years than he cared to remember.

Without a word, Shuichi twirled his finger in the air.

“What,” Kizou snapped. What the hell was that supposed to mean? With a frown, he flipped the photograph around. Was that what he was indicating? There was something written on the back of the photograph in blue ink. He stilled when he read what was written: Takanori Uesugi. “What the fu…?” It couldn’t be! Turning the photograph back around, he took in the toddler smiling that beautiful smile that he realized now he had seen numerous times before. It was Shuichi’s smile. What he also saw was his little brother Lucien Kizou.

At the tender age of six, his brother ran into the street to retrieve his ball. Any other day at any other time, it would not have mattered, but as it turned out, on that particular day, a farmer had been driving past their house to bring fresh produce to sell at the farmer’s market. Lucien had literally appeared from out of nowhere when he‘d jumped out from behind the ancient stone wall and row of hedges that had marked their land. Old Mr. Rye had not been able to stop in time. After that day, their family sold the old family estate and moved into the city. All the photographs containing images of his only sibling had mysteriously vanished sometime during the move. “This is…?”

“My son…Your--son.”

Kizou slowly shook his head, back and forth, over and over again. It couldn’t be…! It was…! His legs gave out, sending him tumbling back down into his chair. “But I…”

“Can’t have kids?” Shuichi supplied.

Kizou’s head snapped up.

Shuichi saw the astonishment and the confusion on Kizou’s face.

“But…how…?” For some reason, he’d never told Shuichi. Other than his doctors, only his ex-wife and Narata knew. Narata was his right hand man, his lieutenant. He could tell the man anything and vice versa without fear of being judged.

“Taki.”

Kizou frowned. Taki? As in Takanori Aizawa? But how…? Then he remembered.

He’d been in a meeting with Narata and his various other “Cabinet members” discussing what should be done about their infestation problem. The E Street Gang had been a small band of hoodlums that had been causing him an exorbitant amount of trouble about five years back. After preparations were made for an all out extermination, Narata had pulled him aside to talk to him about his then girlfriend.

Apparently, Narata had overheard her on the phone with a girlfriend. Chitose and he had been together going on eight years at that point and it seemed as if she was beginning to wonder why she was not yet with child. It was not as if they’d been actively trying to get pregnant. They hadn’t even discussed it. It was, in fact, something she’d been trying to do behind his back. Most likely as a stunt to get him to marry her.

After he’d thanked Narata for the information, saying he would handle it, he’d stepped out of the office where the meeting had been held to see Taki skirting around the far corner. He’d thought nothing of it at the time, but now he knew. Taki had been eavesdropping. Made sense that he would. Taki had always been jealous of those within his inner-circle and angry that he still wasn‘t part of it.

“He said something about…” Shuichi’s forehead scrunched in thought. “…man land not being the same ever since you had cancer…or something.”

Massaging his temples where a headache was just beginning to make itself known, Kizou sighed. If Taki wasn’t already dead, he’d kill him. Dropping his hand from his forehead, he held up the photograph. The boy was definitely not a lithe waif like his mother. The fact that little Takanori, instead, looked almost identical to his long deceased brother gave him pause, but…Was it possible? After countless women and neutrals had remained barren, after artificial insemination and in vitro fertilization had failed numerous times, had this boy sitting before him finally done the impossible?

But…

What if…?

“How do you know?” He wanted to be absolutely sure before he got his hopes up.

Shuichi shook his head. “I just do.”

Kizou felt a hand clench around his heart. “Shu…”

Shuichi‘s face contorted in irritation. “Look at him!” He jumped to his feet and pointed at the picture. “You look at him and tell me he isn‘t!”

Little Takanori did resemble his brother quite a bit. That had to be more than just coincidence. “I’ve…”

Shuichi held his breath.

“…Always wanted a son.”

Shuichi felt the tension ease from his shoulders. “So you’ll do it?”

“Do what?”

“A paternity test.”

Kizou gazed at the boy smiling up at him. He didn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

**III**

* * *

**  
**   


**An Hour Later -- Kyoto, Japan**

Coming here had been a bad idea. What had he been thinking?

Shuichi hesitated on the sidewalk in front of his old house. A hand lightly grasped the closed gate. The other rubbed his agitated belly. He made soft shushing noises. “Hush now, Kita, Kaya,” he whispered.

Violet eyes ghosted over the buzzer uncertainly before raising to take in the dwelling before him. Even now, he felt unwelcome. He gulped as he studied his old house that had never truly been a home.

It was strange. Except for the potted plant on the front steps, still slightly titled and uneven from an earthquake that had shaken the city before he was born, nothing appeared to have changed. The white paint on the house’s façade was still peeling, only in much larger chunks. Debris still filled the porch light. He wondered if the gate still squeaked. It used to drive him up the wall, which was why he’d always left it open, which had driven his father insane. Shuichi chuckled at the memory. To get the gate to stop squeaking his mother used a household remedy: cooking spray. As strange as it sounded, it actually worked…For a time. Eventually the squeaking started back up again, only worse. It was a never-ending cycle.

For some reason he had been expecting something to have changed, but everything was exactly as he remembered it--minus the plant. Instead of nearly three years having passed since he last step foot anywhere near this neighborhood, it suddenly felt as if it had been mere hours, as if he was just coming home from spending the day at Ryuichi’s studio with Hiro and Suguru practicing for some upcoming gig. Well, if he’d had a normal childhood, he supposed that’s what would have happened. Reality was something all together different. Instead of returning here after practice, he would have, in reality, gone back to the Compound.

He wasn’t sure he cared for the feelings being here was stirring up.

When he felt the pressured sting of tears, he wasn’t sure if it was from hormones or memories.

Three years. Had it really been that long? Little Takanori was now about two. He’d been halfway through his first trimester when he’d been forcibly ejected from the Shindou household. So yeah. Just about three years. More or less. Wow.

He remembered having his pregnant ass hauled out of the house. Oh, yes. That day had been forever emblazoned on his soul. Every time he looked at his son, he remembered the humiliation and the anguish, the anger, the despair. He also remembered the look on both of his parents’ faces: the devastation, betrayal…the disgust.

There was also something else he saw when he looked at his son: a miracle.

He scanned the front yard. There! Suddenly he felt nauseous. He hugged his arms around his belly and started to slowly back away, fighting tears. That was the exact spot where he’d landed.

As he’d been pregnant at the time his father kicked him out of the house--literally tossed--he was lucky the fall hadn’t caused him to have a miscarriage, but then that was probably what his father’s aim had been all along. Couldn’t have any freaks under his roof. Fortunately, the only injury he had sustained was to his heart.

Yes. Coming here had definitely been a very bad idea. There was nothing left for him here. Nothing at all. His parents had made that very clear three years ago.

Turning his back on the aging structure, Shuichi started down the street towards the train station. It was time to head on home.

 

* * *

 

Bored. Maiko was so bored! It had only been…what? Maybe four hours? Five since the school officials had cancelled classes for the day? And she was already going out of her mind. It was so frustrating! And to think her mother did this every single day. How did she stand it?

It had quickly become apparent that there was nothing good on daytime television. Talk shows. Infomercials. Game shows. Soap operas. The same old nonsense that was interesting the first five seconds that quickly became redundant. Her cat--dead since she was five--could come up with a much more interesting schedule than the obviously illiterate producers of daytime television could.

The radio wasn’t any better. Only crap polluted the radio airwaves nowadays, with the exception of her brothers’ music of course. No originality. Apparently, talent was an alien concept these days. It was the same old cookie cutter crap. Just interchange the name of the singers and bands on any album cover in any music store in the country. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Whatever talent these so-called “entertainers” might have had at one point obviously died a hideous death, along with whatever brain cells they used to possess, the moment they stepped foot inside a recording studio. There must be some sort of toxin polluting the air of music studios. It was the only explanation. She would have to remember to bring it up with Shuichi the next time she saw him.

You would think the internet would alleviate her seemingly endless boredom, but as it turned out, there was only so much to do on the internet. It only ended up adding to her already mounting frustration.

If she would have known she’d have only half a day of school, she wouldn’t have finished Eiri Yuki’s latest novel last night and in record time, a mere five hours after purchasing it. It didn’t help that “Fallen” was more a novella than a novel.

She could always help her mother out with some of her chores…well she could if the house wasn’t spotless. You could literally eat off the floor.

Maiko flopped down into the armchair, exhaling an explosive breath of air.

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Bor-

Maiko cocked her head. She’d turned to look out the picture window when a flash of pink caught her eye. Immediately, her mind leapt to Shuichi, but she just as quickly shook the assumption aside. It couldn’t be Shuichi. Her brother was in Tokyo. What would he be doing here in Kyoto?

But still…

She could not shake the feeling that it had been Shuichi.

There it was again! Another flash of pink between the neighbor’s hedges caught her attention.

Leaping out of the armchair, Maiko rushed through the house, slipped on the first pair of shoes she saw and burst out of the house and down the front walk. She pushed through the gate and skidded to a halt.

“Shuichi,” she called. “Big brother!”

Oh, she hoped it was him. Otherwise, she was making a complete fool out of herself.

 

* * *

 

Almost there. Why was it the closer the destination becomes, the farther away it seems? Or was that just him? Either way, Morihiro Shindou could not wait until he got home. This heat was killing him. Maybe he should have moved to Hokkaido when he had the chance. Wasn’t it supposed to be cooler there? If he was lucky that position he’d turned down might still be available. The central air at work had finally up and failed early this morning, too, which hadn’t exactly helped matters either. Talk about Hell.

He and his fellow co-workers have been complaining for years about needing the central air replaced. The old one was, well, old. In fact, it was older than dirt and he was not exaggerating--by much. Of course, the powers that be, time and again, claimed that there was nothing wrong with the current system. The fact that it was cooler outside than it was inside during a heat wave in the summer and colder in the building than outside during a blizzard in the winter apparently had not been much a reason to switch the system out. Now the system was fried. Completely. There was no salvaging it. Or so claimed the repairman. Guess the bosses had to ante up for a complete new central air system. Bet they were kicking themselves in the ass.

Morihiro chuckled.

He rounded the corner to his street and came to a halt. There, not more than one hundred yards down the street, stood Maiko and…

“Shuichi.”

Not wanting to be seen, Morihiro quickly ducked back around the corner, flattening against the stone wall. He could feel the coolness of the stone at his back through his suit. A surge of panic flooded through him. Had he been seen, he wondered over the fierce beating of his heart.

His mind churned. What was Shuichi doing here? It could not be a coincidence. Their street was a cul-de-sac. There was no outlet. For him to be there in front of their house meant that he had come there deliberately, but why? He has snubbed them for the passed three years. What possibly could have happened that would cause him to change his mind?

Laughter floated passed him. Curious, he carefully poked his head around the wall. Maiko was laughing at something Shuichi was saying. As he was too far away, he could not make out what was being said, but if the nearly identical grins on both of their faces were any indication, it was clear the two of them had patched things up. He was glad.

He watched Shuichi drop his hands to his belly. This time Shuichi laughed at something Maiko was saying. Hearing his son laughing brought a smile to his face. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had seen Shuichi smile let alone laugh. It was obvious that Shuichi was happy. He was glad. Maybe kicking him out of the house and signing away his parental rights back to Ryuichi had been the right decision after all.

 

* * *

 

**Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

How long he sat there staring at the photograph of the child that could possibly be his son, Kizou was not sure.

Was this really his son? Could it truly be possible? Was years of hoping and wishing and praying coming to an end? It was hard to believe this wasn’t just another one of his dreams. It just seemed too good to be true.

He knew he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up. After all, there was always the possibility that little Takanori Uesugi was not his son, despite what Shuichi insisted.

_“You look at him and tell me he isn‘t!”_

It was not something he cared to advertise let alone dwell upon, but Shuichi had not exactly been faithful during their brief courtship. The only lover he was aware of was Taki Aizawa. Had there been others? Possibly. Shuichi claimed there hadn’t been, but you never know. Why would Shuichi admit to their existence if he were all too aware any possible lovers he took would only get their asses handed to them? Of course, he’d like to be able to say with confidence that there hadn’t been any, but after learning that Shuichi had actually slept with that sleaze ball Aizawa, he really couldn’t do that. These “others”, if they did in fact exist, would have just as much chance of being little Takanori’s father as he did, regardless of how much the boy looked like his deceased little brother. Though, the likelihood that little Takanori was his child remained and he couldn’t help but grasp onto it with both hands.

It was hard to say what he was feeling. He might have actually fathered a child. It was a dream come true.

But…

The giddiness eased back as the reality of the situation set in. As much as a time for celebration as this was, it was also one of caution. He was, after all, a mafia boss, leader of the Black Dragons, a Yakuza. The question went from, “what if he’s mine?” to “what if he is mine?” What if? If it turned out little Takanori was indeed his son and if he were to acknowledge him as such, there was the possibility that his enemies could use the knowledge to get to him. Had he not used that same technique countless times against his enemies? To get the upper hand, you had to find your enemy’s weakness and exploit it.

Kizou pushed that all aside for the time being. There was no need to obsess over milk that had yet to be spilled. If little Takanori did indeed turn out to be his son, then only then would he mull over the possibilities of what he would do.

Setting the photograph aside, he reached for the scrap of paper sitting a top the invoices that were now stained with tea. On the torn piece of paper was written a phone number with a Tokyo area code. Kizou smirked at the barely legible chicken scratch. It seemed Shuichi hadn’t improved his handwriting skills much.

Picking up the phone, he dialed the number. As the line rang, he sat back. Spinning the chair around, he gazed out the window. He could see the koi pond out back. Shuichi used to love sitting on the large boulder beside it writing in the notebook he always carried around.

“Tohma Seguchi speaking,” a voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yes, hello.” Kizou turned from his reminiscing. Unconsciously, he found himself sitting straighter. Everyone knew of this man. Tohma Seguchi was infamous, especially among the Yakuza. Nobody messed with him. Well, nobody messed with him and lived to tell the tale. “My name is Rique Kizou-”

“Shuichi told me you would be calling,” Tohma interrupted smoothly. “Shall we get right to it then?”

Kizou gulped, suddenly nervous.

 

**…To Be Continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The Asian Plum Tea Set I had here originally is no longer available so I changed it. To see this one, go to amazon and do a search for "Cherry Blossoms Ceramic Tea Set with Strainer Asian Dinnerware Decor".
> 
> (2) I highly doubt this actually happens in Buddhism (if something similar does happen then let me know), but it is mandatory for Roman Catholics. They have to be activate participants within the church for a year prior to the wedding and they also have to meet with the priest for a pre-marital counseling session or something.
> 
> (3) Go to “oriental furniture.com” then plug in “13 Drawer Buffet Table” in the search box.
> 
> (4) This quote is from “Desire” (the novel) and is said by Toru.


	6. Strength Within the Comforting Circle of Your Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have not now or ever will be associated with the NRA (National Riffle Association). Neither am I a gun enthusiast. I will say that in my family, we have a long line of military as well as law enforcement service. My grandfather was also a deer hunter who kept several hunting riffles locked up in a gun cabinet in the dining room. I, being American, also stand by our right to bear arms, though I am a firm believer in strict gun control.
> 
> Insert: Brief flashback to "Street of Dreams"

* * *

 

**Chapter 6: Strength Within the Comforting Circle of Your Arms**

**Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

_“You’d better tell him, Sakuma, before I do.”_

How long ago had Eiri left? Ryuichi wasn’t sure, but the man’s parting shot still resounded in his head. It dogged his every step like an unwanted specter. It was nearly, word for word, the exact same thing Tatsuha has been telling him for years.

Knowing what he had to do did not make it any easier to do.

Ryuichi let his head fall forward. His forehead banged sharply against the closed sliding glass door that led out onto the balcony overlooking the city.

Shuichi deserved to know the truth and Ryuichi had to be the one to tell him. If Shuichi were to find out from some other source, it would only cause an already tense situation to become even more so. But he did not want Shuichi to hate him. There was no question that if--no, when the sorted details came out, Shuichi would not look too kindly upon him. Maybe if he were to tell Shuichi that, at the time, he’d thought it for the best? Ryuichi abandoned that explanation as quickly as it was formed. Good intentions or not, nobody appreciated being told, “It’s for your own good”. It was not exactly a compliment.

From across the room, Tatsuha watched Ryuichi silently. A rush of sadness overcame him. He had no idea what the older singer was going through or what he was feeling. Honestly, Tatsuha was glad he didn’t and hoped he never did. Though he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do or say in this particular situation that would help, he still wished there was something he could do. His heart ached as he watched the turmoil in Ryuichi’s eyes, the avalanche of emotions cascading down his face, and still, there was nothing he could do.

 

* * *

 

**En Route - Chiyoda-Ku, Tokyo, Japan**

It was almost too quiet, Eiri decided as he wove expertly through traffic, but he was not about to start complaining. Even the smallest reprieve was most welcome. It gave him the opportunity to think over what he’d just been told: Ryuichi Sakuma was Shuichi Shindou’s biological father. If he hadn’t seen the proof with his own eyes, he would have accused Sakuma of having a brother complex. Even he could not have written something as--as…well, as fucked up as this. It was like a storyline from one of Mika’s annoying soap operas.

_“You’d better tell him, Sakuma, before I do.”_

What he’d told Ryuichi had not been a lie. He would tell Shuichi the truth if Ryuichi didn’t man up, though he would rather Shuichi learn the truth from Ryuichi and not him. Shuichi would not appreciate hearing something like this from him.

Finding out you’d been living a lie was like being sucker punched by some guy on the street you did not know and would never see again. It was not a pleasant feeling. You wanted to hide from the rest of the world, to just curl up in some corner and die. You didn’t want to believe it, though you couldn’t not believe it, because somehow you knew what you’d just learned was the truth. Things suddenly made sense. Those missing pieces you never seemed to be able to find no matter how hard you searched suddenly appeared before you.

Eiri was forced to slow down as the traffic light turned red.

Almost three years ago, he’d been right where Shuichi was on the verge of treading. It was a very dangerous precipice nobody should scale, alone or otherwise. Would Shuichi accept his hand if he were to hold it out to him or slap it away?

 

* * *

 

**Uesugi-Shindou Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Mai stood in the opulent foyer of her son’s building. A plain white envelope was clutched to her chest. Printed in her signature block writing on the front of the envelope was Shuichi’s name. Maybe she should have disguised her handwriting. As soon as Shuichi picked up the envelope, he would know it was from her, even without there being a return address.

Was this cowardly?

Giving the envelope one final glance, she stepped forward and slipped it into the mailbox she hoped belonged to her son. After it vanished from view, there was a brief moment of regret.

Too late now, she decided.

With a sigh, she made her way out of the cool interior of the building into the sweltering summer heat. Immediately she began to perspire.

She paused momentarily to gather her bearings before heading towards the train.

 

* * *

 

**NG Productions Executive Offices - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

“Alright. Thank you Mr. Iba. I appreciate you taking the time to oversee this yourself.”

“It was my pleasure Mr. Seguchi.”

“Good day.”

Hanging up the phone with a heavy sigh, Tohma quickly checked the clock on the far wall. He was cutting it pretty close. He had to be at Energy, one of his newest venues, to check out this new band that was quickly making a name for themselves. Apparently, they were supposed to sound as if someone had thrown m.o.v.e, Koda Kumi and BOA into a blender and sprinkled a little Abingdon Boys School on top. Interesting. If he liked what he heard, NG might just have a new acquisition.

He had just enough time to swing home to freshen up before heading out to the club. If he would have known he would be cutting it this close, he would have brought a change of clothes with him to the office, but at least everything was set for tomorrow.

Tomorrow afternoon, a representative from the DNA Diagnostic Center--or DDC--would arrive to take a buccal sample, which--he had been assured was going to be a painless procedure--from both of the alleged fathers as well as from little Takanori. As one of the alleged fathers was deceased, Masato Aizawa--Taki Aizawa’s father--had arranged for a DNA sample from the morgue that had performed his son’s autopsy. In case that fell through, he would be bringing some of his son’s belongings.

Oharu Aizawa still had not come to terms with the knowledge that her grandson might not be her deceased son’s child. Who could blame her? Tohma wasn’t sure if she would show or if it would only be her husband.

Then there was Rique Kizou.

Not only had the man willingly agreed to take part in the DNA test to determine the paternity of little Takanori Uesugi, but Kizou had also willingly agreed to shuffle his schedule around so that he could come in person to Tokyo to partake in the test. For some reason Tohma was surprised by this. That was not to say he wasn’t glad Kizou had decided not to fight or deny Shuichi’s claim that little Takanori was the man‘s son, but he was amazed that Kizou had agreed without putting up a fight. Weren’t men in Kizou’s position supposed to buy their accusers silence? Or hold a press conference so that he could deny the claims in front of all Asia? Kizou had done the exact opposite. It was almost as if he wanted Shuichi’s claims to be true.

Strange.

Tohma pushed his chair back. Using his arms as leverage, he half rose out of the chair, but paused when his earlier conversation with his wife flitted back through his head.

“I don’t trust her Tohma,” Mika said pointblank.

“Mika. Dear. Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“No I do not,” she answered without any preamble.

“Mika,” Tohma sighed.

“Tohma.”

Leaning back in his office chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “So…what? You think she‘s in league with Nami Mataguchi?”

“Yes.”

Surprised by his wife’s serious reply, Tohma dropped his hand.

Was it possible? Was Ms. Ayaka Usami something they should be worried about? It seemed ridiculous, ludicrous even. The Ayaka he knew was shy and quiet, demure almost to the point of prudish. She was definitely the type of woman you would be proud to take home to Mother. To think she was this insidious mastermind behind a plot to break up Eiri and Shuichi was not something even the most talented writer could imagine.

But…

If he were to consider Nami Mataguchi and her seemingly odd quest and now Ayaka’s obsession, it did make some semblance of sense. He just wished it didn’t.

Dropping back down into the chair with a heavy sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed home. Guess he would have to be a little late to the club. As expected, his wife answered after the first ring. She must have been waiting by the phone. Knew him well she did. “Give me her number,” he said without waiting for Mika to say anything.

Surprised, but pleased, Mika rattled off the Usami’s phone number. “And…thanks, Tohma.”

Don’t thank me yet, he thought as he reminded her that he would be home late.

 

* * *

 

Tohma sat staring at the number he’d copied down. He really hoped this turned out to be nothing, though something told him that was not going to be the case.

It didn’t take long for the line to be answered.

“Hello? Usami residence,” answered a quiet female voice.

“Hello. I’m looking for Ayaka.” Tohma reclined back in his chair. He swiveled it around to face out the wall of windows.

“This is she,” the girl, Ayaka, answered.

“Ayaka. This is Tohma Seguchi.”

“Ah! Mr. Seguchi! Hello! I was just speaking with Ms. Mika-”

“Let’s cut the small talk,” Tohma interrupted her. Not too long ago he had been having a really good day.

“…Uh, sir?”

She sounded confused. It only added to his rising irritation. She had better hope she had nothing to do with the turmoil Nami Mataguchi was causing. Nobody messed with his family and got away with it. “I want you to stay away from Eiri and Shuichi. You hear me?” The words were threatening, but his tone was light, as if he were just shooting the breeze with an old friend.

Even over the phone, he could tell when the atmosphere changed. His grip on the phone tightened in reaction.

“I’m sorry Mr. Seguchi, but I cannot do that.” Like him, her tone was also light and carefree. Just two friends catching up. But her words were not.

Tohma frowned. “Aya-”

“Eiri is my betrothed.” This time she was the one to cut him off. She paused, as if waiting for him to say something, but when he remained silent, she continued. “I will tell you what I told Ms. Mika. I will do whatever it takes to make Eiri mine.”

With that hanging between them, the call was terminated.

Tohma stared down at the receiver. This did not bode well.

Swiveling his chair back around, he dialed a number he’d hoped he would never have to dial again.

“Yeah,” a gruff male voice answered in American accent English.

“K this is Seguchi. I have another job for you.”

 

* * *

 

**En-Route - Tokyo to Kyoto**

Mai Shindou leaned her head against the cool wall of the speeding train. She felt like a coward for retreating when like she had. Her only saving grace, if it could be called that, was the letter she’d left. Hopefully Shuichi would get it. Even if she had to wait until she was on her deathbed, she would do whatever it took to get Shuichi to forgive her for her indiscretions.

Just as another train sped by going in the opposite direction, she pushed away from the wall and carefully picked her way across the aisle. She sat down gratefully. As bummed as she was for not being able to speak with Shuichi, she could not wait to get home.

 

* * *

 

**En-Route - Kyoto to Tokyo**

Humming softly, Shuichi sat with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. A smile played with his lips as he rubbed soothing circles on his belly.

It still amazed him how easy it had been to convince Kizou to partake in the paternity test, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Lifting his head, Shuichi watched as the scenery flew passed in a blur of color. He couldn’t wait to get home. It has been one hell of a long day.

 

* * *

 

**Somewhere in the United States**

It has been exactly two years, nine months, three weeks, three days and thirteen hours since he last spoke with Mr. Tohma Seguchi. Not that he was counting. And it certainly wasn’t as if he’d enjoyed the last job he’d done for the man and had been waiting eagerly for the chance to work for him again. It was just a fact.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” K’s voice rumbled in an otherwise silent room. Currently, he was temporarily residing in a rather drab hotel room half the size of a shoebox on the top floor of a dingy rundown hotel in an equally, if not more so, dingy part of town that saw it’s heyday back at the turn of the last century.

With the crash of the stock market in 1929, known hence forth as Black Tuesday, the life was sucked right out of this once vibrant neighborhood. It was a shame too. Underneath the squalor and the stench of hopelessness that seemed to linger like a black cloud upon the residents, glimpses of the past could still be seen: from the movie theater constructed in 1926 to what had at one point been City Hall.

Billed as “The Showplace of the City”, the old Conciernce Theater was said to be patterned after the Italian Renaissance with painstakingly handpainted murals (1).

An Art Deco masterpiece, the colossal edifice once called City Hall, for less than a decade, had an architectural style that was said to be modern without “being modernistic” (2).

Both had been since left to rot and decay.

He was known simply by his code name, K, to both allies and enemies alike. Of course, there was the occasional curiosity seeker who somehow was able to stumble upon his true identity, but you know what they say, “Curiosity killed the cat.” Knowing what he knew of Tohma Seguchi (once just the producer and one of the keyboardists of Nittle Grasper and now the closest thing to a mafia boss without actually being a mafia boss), he would not put it passed the man to know every last detail about his life, including what size underwear he wears or the name his wife and son knew him by: Claude Winchester.

Instead of holding his cellphone, thus potentially turning himself into a target should his location be compromised, K was speaking to Tohma using a hands-free Bluetooth headset. The new BlueAnt Q1 was voice controlled, which left his hands free to grab his derringer that rested at the small of his back, his shotgun currently under the bed--but within arm‘s reach--or his trusted magnum in its shoulder holster.

The derringer was actually a Cobra Enterprises Derringer Pistol that he‘d bought from one of his contacts who just happened to live right around the corner. He was a man with the type of work ethic and motto that suited K’s type of profession: Don’t ask. Don’t tell. With a chrome finish, .22 long rifle caliber, alloy frame, pearl grips, fixed sights, its 2 round capacity and 2.4-inch barrel, the derringer could easily fit within a woman’s purse without it feeling as if she had a brick in there. His wife swore by it, which was one of the reasons why he’d decided to purchase one for himself. One of the unfortunate cons of an otherwise sweet weapon was its muzzle flash and the fact that it was very loud when fired, but it produced no recoil. It definitely was not the ideal weapon of choice, at least not in his line of work. It was merely a backup tool just in case. One never knew.

The semi-auto shotgun was the 10505 Benelli Vinci ComforTech Plus Semi-Auto Shotgun. It is reported to be “the fastest-shooting, softest-kicking, most reliable lightweight 12-gauge shotgun in the world” (3). This 12-gauge shotgun with its 26-inch barrel length, 3-inch chamber, 3 +1 capacity and its black synthetic stock was simple, efficient and lightweight at only 6.8 pounds. It had soft recoil thanks to the new inertia recoil system. Overall, his new shotgun was quite impressive.

But if he had to choose, his weapon of choice would definitely have to be his Magnum Research BFR .30/30 Winchester Revolver.

As stealth, efficiency and swiftness was of the utmost importance, the derringer, shotgun and the magnum would not do. Instead, he chose Remington’s M-24 Sniper Weapon System, which was said to be “the finest long-range system available today” (4). Designed originally for use by the United States Military, the Remington was now used by various agencies and organizations worldwide--from SWAT teams all across the States to the international military and government agencies--for its accuracy was unsurpassed.

“For now,” came Tohma’s voice in his ear, “just a little surveillance.”

Crossing to the room’s only window, K pulled down the slats of the aluminum mini blinds that were yellowed with age--and who knew what else--and gazed out into the night. The lights were on in the room across the street. Excitement flowed through him. Was this it? A quick check through his binoculars had his anticipation dying a quick death.

“Damn,” he grumbled. It was only the husband. Where the hell was that little bitch? If she had gotten wind of the hit and split town, he was not going to be a happy camper.

“How soon can you be here?”

“Not sure,” K answered truthfully. What should have been a straightforward job was quickly turning problematic. There was no telling when he would be free to take on another assignment. “How soon does this need to be completed?”

“Yesterday.”

K hummed in thought. He lowered the binoculars and stepped away from the window. The blinds returned to their past warped state. There was nothing he despised more than having to turn down a job, especially one in which he would be so well compensated, unless it was stepping away from a job. Once he took on a job, there was no turning back. Not even for a husband who had changed his mind at the last minute. From past experience, he knew that if Tohma Seguchi was calling him then the man meant business. Tohma’s requests were not to be taken lightly. “If it’s just surveillance-”

“For now.”

K nodded. “-then…” There was someone who came to mind who might be able to help until he was free to personally oversee the assignment. “Let me make a call.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I trust no one,” K stated candidly, “but she has proven herself. I‘ve worked with her once before.”

There was a pause. “Alright,” Tohma finally said. “Make your call, but K…”

“Yes sir,” K said. Nothing more needed to be said.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere in Japan

It wasn’t anything fancy. It was just another family restaurant where the food wasn’t horrible, but neither was it something to write home about either. The portions were large enough to feed three people. The prices were just as oversized. The tables were so crowded together that you could not pick up your napkin without elbowing some poor soul in the eye. It was so loud you could not even hear yourself think. It reminded Shiho of grade school. It was not a pleasant thought, but as her latest beau was yum-o, just this once she would overlook this lapse in judgment, but next time--if there was one--he might not be so lucky.

“Really?” Her eyes were wide in combined fascination, wonder and horror.

“Oh, yeah,” Ken nodded. His dark eyes were twinkling in merriment. A grin was plastered on his face. He had all the appearances of a man who was delighted that someone else found his story just as enthralling as he did.

Shiho giggled behind her hands.

“And he was like-”

Buzzing emanated from her purse.

She pulled her purse towards her and reached inside. Bypassing her iPhone wrapped in a pink Gogo case with its handpainted white and black butterfly design; she instead fingered the lining of the center partition. A slit appeared. Reaching inside, she pulled out a slim prepaid phone. “Sorry. Gotta take this,” she apologized sweetly. “Excuse me,” she said. Without waiting for a reply, she shouldered her purse, slid out of the booth and made her way through the packed restaurant. “Yeah,” she answered curtly as she stepped outside. Leaving the suffocating atmosphere and her boring, though too cute for his own good, date behind her was a welcomed relief.

“It’s me,” said the English speaking male voice.

“Hey! It’s been, what, like forever.”

There was a snort. “More like two years, nine months, three-”

Shiho rolled her eyes. Her loud sigh drowned out the rest of his sentence.

“I have an assignment for you. Interested?”

A sly grin crossed her face. “Always,” Shiho purred in English. There wasn’t a trace of an accent as she spoke.

“Good.” His tone was suddenly serious. “This isn’t going to be like your last assignment. This is just surveillance.”

Shiho pouted. “Well that’s no fun.”

“Well, you never know. Depending on how things go…” The rest was left hanging, but the meaning was clearly conveyed.

The sly grin slow crawled back onto Shiho’s face. “I might get to play bumper cars again?”

There was a low chuckle in her ear. “Maybe.”

Shiho could not wait.

_"He just came out of nowhere," she sobbed wide eyed in what Tatsuha could clearly see was shock. She began panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Oh God! It was as if he just fell out of the sky! I…I just…I didn't have time to stop…!"_

Oh how she could remember that day so clearly even now. It’d been her first assignment and she’d passed with flying colors. Maybe she should have become an actress. It was too bad she had to ruin a perfectly good car though, but with the money she’d earned, she’d just bought a new one.

“I’ll email you the details when I get them.”

Shiho Daidoji wondered what role she should play this time. Last time she worked with K, she’d been the panicky brunette. Guess she would have to wait and see.

 

* * *

 

**Uesugi-Shindou Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Had it only been twelve hours since he last saw his husband and precious baby boy? It seemed more like a hundred years…Okay so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Shuichi had left about six this morning, not long after sunrise, to catch the bullet train to Kyoto and now here it was just after six in the evening. It would be an understatement to say that he was dead tired. All he wanted was to curl up in bed with his husband and sleep.

Unfortunately, before he could surrender to the blissful lull of sleep, he had to get something to eat. He was absolutely famished. Other than a breakfast burrito this morning and an egg salad sandwich this afternoon from the vending machines at the train station, he hadn’t eaten anything. Better not to mention this to Eiri.

As Eiri would demand to know, he’d have to tell him about how his trip to Kyoto had turned out. It still surprised him how relatively easy it’d been to get Kizou to comply with his request, but it wasn’t as if he were about to start complaining. Even Tohma had been taken aback at the simplicity of the outcome.

At noon tomorrow, all the parties would gather at NG Productions and three days after that was when the truth would be known: whether or not Taki Aizawa was little Takanori’s biological father or if it was Kizou.  Part of him hoped it was Kizou.  Buddha bless his corrupt, evil little soul, but even in death, Taki gave him the creeps.  Hopefully in his next life Taki would be a better person.

As much as he disliked Taki, even if death, it would be better for everyone if Taki was indeed little Takanori’s father. For if Kizou was indeed little Takanori’s father, everything was going to change and, possibly, not for the better. Kizou was not just a Yakuza, but the leader of the dreaded and infamous Black Dragons. They’d tried to keep it silent that Shuichi had once been part of the Black Dragons, but once it got out that Kizou was being scouted as a possible father, all hell was going to break loose. There was no way of telling how news that he’d been involved with the Yakuza would affect Bad Luck. And what about Eiri? How would this affect his book sales? And what about little Takanori?

Yawning, Shuichi scrubbed his hands over his face.

The only certainty he was sure about at the moment was that he wanted the truth to come out. He could care less one way or another, but Eiri was right. Little Takanori was going to want to know one day. Of course, there was always the possibility that his son might not want to know. It could turn out that little Takanori was one of those people who would be satisfied with the life he currently leads instead of the truth. Maybe he’ll see Eiri as his father, just as the rest of them did, and not care about anything else. But it would be good to know the truth just in case.

Sounding unnaturally loud in the tight, almost claustrophobic confines of the car, a ping resounded, announcing the elevator had arrived at its intended destination.

Pushing away from the back wall, he stepped out of the elevator and into the eerily silent hallway. For once, he was not about to start complaining about the quiet. It was exactly what he needed after being stuck in a train for the better part of the day. His eardrums were still ringing.

Pulling his keys out of his bag, he quickly unlocked the door to the condominium he shared with his husband and son.

That was something else he had to do this weekend: move. Wonderful.

Had he signed his lease renewal? He couldn’t remember. At the present moment, he could care less. That was something he could worry about later.

The low murmuring of the television greeted him when he pushed open the door. Nostalgia washed over him. It brought a smile to his face.

Thank God, he was home.

Stepping into the foyer, he shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it. “Hello,” he called loudly as he tossed his keys onto the sideboard. Lifting the strap of his messenger bag over his head, he set his bag down on the floor. “I’m home!”

He chuckled at the immediate stampeding of tiny feet. “Mama,” yelled the accompanying voice.

“Hey you,” he greeted as his two year old son flew into his arms.

Imitating a koala, Little Takanori wrapped his tiny body around him.

“Were you good for Daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“’Bout time,” grumbled a male voice.

Shuichi lifted his head. Standing with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips before him was Eiri. “I’m home.”

Eiri smiled. It softened the harsh lines on his face. “Welcome home…Baka,” he added.

 

* * *

 

**Ryugan Temple - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

A peaceful lull had fallen over the Usami household. The only interruptions came from the low murmurings in the living room where her parents were relaxing in front of the television and the clinking of the dishes as she cleaned up after another mundane meal.

_“Ayaka, dear, you do know that your betrothal to my brother was called off?”_

As Mika Seguchi’s callous words echoed back through her mind, her grip on the sponge in one hand and a dinner plate in the other tightened. Her fingers squeaked as they rubbed down the slick slippery surface of the plate. A plume of soapy water shot from the sponge.

_“He never intended to marry you.”_

Liar! Why would someone spout such hateful lies?

Did Mika not love her bother? Did she not want to see him happy? Wasn’t that the goal of all older siblings? Weren’t they supposed to watch out for their younger brothers and sisters and make sure they did not falter and stop them from making the same mistakes they made? How could she possible sleep at night knowing that she’d taken such a misstep when she gave her precious younger brother her blessings? How could Eiri possibly be happy when he was forced into marrying some whore that had gotten pregnant after they’d slept together just once? How could someone find happiness from an obligation?

_“My brother has moved on and so should you.”_

That was such total and utter bullshit. When you’re shackled, it was impossible to move beyond a certain point. You’re confined to a narrow space with no room to breathe. How can a person be happy that way? Being tethered to a leash and being forced to watch as the world passed you by…How is that moving on? It wasn’t. No. Eiri was stuck in a rut. He had not moved on. What a sad, miserable existence Eiri now led.

_“I want you to stay away from Eiri and Shuichi. You hear me?”_

Usually people trip over themselves in their haste to do the bidding of one Tohma Seguchi, for that man’s bark was nothing compared to his bite. All he had to do was smile that infamous smile of his and he had you wetting yourself. Nobody disobeyed the great and powerful Tohma Seguchi, nobody except her that was. She had no intention of complying with his suggested order. What she stated to both him and his wife was the absolute truth: Eiri belonged to her and no matter what it took or how long it took, she would see to it that there wasn’t a soul that did not know that.

Nothing was going to stop her, nothing and nobody.

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

**  
**   


**TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo, Japan - That Night**

**  
**

To admit he was dead tired would be a gross understatement.

With one hand on the antique brass doorknob and the other on the light switch, Chishin swept his gaze over his office one final time to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. The windows were closed. The shades drawn. His computer was off. Somehow, the mountain high piles of paperwork that had littered the desk that morning had been sorted through and dealt with. What remained had been organized into two smaller piles. He figured he would be caught up by lunchtime on Monday.

Silently, he cursed his childhood friend for causing him to become so negligent this passed week, which had resulted in the backup of work.

Overall, everything appeared to be in order.

Just as he was about to turn away, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the phone sitting silently on the far corner of the desk. As he turned to look at it full on, his hands fell loosely to his sides.

Nami hadn't returned his phone call. Several more attempts had been just as futile, but he wasn't worried. She was editor-and-chief of an entire magazine after all. A thought briefly wove its way into his mind. Should he give her one last call? He shook the thought aside. Monday. He'd try again on Monday. Maybe by then his old friend would have come up with a reasonable excuse for her behavior.

As a journalist, he could understand her fascination and obvious obsession. Once a story wormed its way under your skin, it remained there like a parasite. There was no way she would back down until she had seen this story through to the finish. Once upon a time, he'd been the same way. In fact, he still was, but he was able to control the urges. After all, he had a television station to run. No longer was he a freelance twenty-something year old without responsibilities who could afford to go running around Japan in search of the next juicy story. It was clear Nami had not yet grown out of that phase. Quite possibly, this quality could help turn her into a much-respected journalist--if she could kick the habit of allowing her prejudices to cloud her judgment.

No matter what people may believe, nobody can know somebody completely. It was impossible. However, seeing as he has been friends with Nami since they were children, he'd like to believe that he knew her reasonably well.

It was because he has known her for so long that it was not difficult to come to the conclusion that her bias towards neutrals was the catalyst behind her apparent fixation behind outing the truth of little Takanori Uesugi's parentage. When her fixation turned into obsession, that's when he'd been forced to rethink things.

Could there possibly be more to her preoccupation with this story than she was letting on?

_"He was still a minor! The famous Eiri Yuki was fucking a minor who he ended up impregnating."_

There had to be. Her anger and inability to see reason seemed to go overboard. It was all a bit much.

It wasn't as if Shuichi Shindou and Eiri Yuki's story was a rare case. In fact, there were numerously similar cases and yet this couple had her undivided attention and not to mention her ire. They had been singled out. Why? The only difference this time was that both parties involved were well-known--Eiri Yuki for being a well respected, best-selling author and Shuichi Shindou for being the lead singer of Bad Luck as well as being Ryuichi Sakuma's little brother. Of course, sometimes that made all the difference, which was hypocritical, but in this case, Shindou and Eiri Yuki's celebrity status was not the driving force behind Nami's relentless antagonizing. Neither was her dislike for neutrals. No, it was something else.

It wasn't only when Isoroku's search turned up evidence that Nami was in frequent contact with one Ayaka Usami, who turned out to be Eiri Yuki's ex-betrothed, that he felt his assumptions were justified.

Not too long ago, Shuichi Shindou was spotted at a local pharmacy buying a pregnancy test. Paparazzi immediately jumped to the conclusion that Shuichi Shindou was pregnant. The assumption made sense, especially when it was announced soon after that he and Eiri Yuki had split up. It was Nami who started circulating speculations that this may be history repeating itself. Had Shuichi been unfaithful? Had a one-night stand caused Shuichi to become pregnant? Was this why Eiri Yuki had dumped him?

That those claims turned out to have not a shred of truth to them had not stopped Nami. Nothing stopped her. She had even gone so far as to start a rumor that there was more to Shuichi Shindou and Ryuichi Sakuma's relationship than was known. Could mere siblings look so much alike?

It was clear. Nami Mataguchi was doing the bidding of someone who was out for blood, Shuichi Shindou's blood. There was no other explanation. Well, none that considered everything.

Blindly, he groped the wall besides him for the light switch. Flicking it, the office seeped into darkness. He stepped out into the quiet hush of the hallway and shut the door behind him. After locking the door, he jiggled the handle to make sure the door was secured. It was. Adjusting the strap of his messenger bag, he turned and started towards the elevator.

He hoped Nami knew what she was doing. If she wanted to get involved with some psychotic witch then that was her choice. If she wanted to throw her career out the window, again, that was her choice, but he would be damned if he sat back and watched as she ruined a bunch of innocent lives just so she could sell more copies of her magazine. Their friendship was not going to help her in any way.

 

* * *

 

**The Trinity Offices - Setagaya, Tokyo, Japan**

She'd been well aware of what would arise because of the actions she had been forced to undertake when she'd agreed to help Ayaka, but this had not been something she'd foreseen.

When she'd been approached two years ago, almost three now, shortly after the press conference--at which Eiri Yuki and Shuichi Shindou announced one shocking revelation after another--by Ayaka Usami, she'd quickly latched onto the younger woman's desire to uncover the truth. She herself had been just as disgusted by the whole affair, of course for a completely different reason.

Ayaka was a scorned lover. At least, in her mind she was. Nami, well, to put it simply, she wanted to out scoop her competitors.

Her reporters instincts have been fine tuned by years of investigative journalism that stemmed from her stints on her high school and college newspapers as well as her short time with Asahi Shimbun, a national newspaper with prints in both Japanese and English, after graduation and they were telling her that there was more to this sordid tale than was being let on.

Oh, yes. This whole "the ex-boyfriend who died in a sudden and tragic car accident is the father" routine just did not sit well with her. Really, who were they trying to kid? Their relationship had been purely platonic? What a load of crap. Eiri Yuki did not have a platonic bone in his body. Trying to ignore the holes in their story was like trying to pretend you were not having a severe case of heartburn.

Now there was a second mysterious pregnancy. It was like history repeating itself, the déjà vu was that strong.

All she wanted was the truth. Unfortunately, it seemed as if Ayaka wanted more than that. She wanted Eiri.

Ayaka's crazy assed scheme was just as insane as she was. That girl just did not know when to admit defeat.

  
Nami spun her soft, brown leather desk chair around and stared out the window into the night, which seemed to have fallen without her notice.

Finally, after dodging her attacks for nearly three years, Shindou had agreed to have a DNA paternity test done. Tohma Seguchi had called her early this morning with the news. By Monday at the earliest, all of Japan would know the truth surrounding the paternal heritage of one Takanori Uesugi.

It started her wondering.

_"This might not turn out the way you want,"_ Nami could remember telling Ayaka. In fact, she had a feeling it wouldn't. Ayaka, though, continues to refuse to see reason.

_"Nonsense. Once the truth comes out, Eiri will be completely devastated and I will be there to comfort him in his time of need."_

Contrary to popular belief, ostriches do not bury their heads in sand, but that was exactly what Ayaka was doing. Instead of facing the predator head on, she would rather pretend that she was not in danger. That type of behavior was very dangerous. Contrary to what others believed about her, Nami did not become so obsessed with a story that she would put herself or others in harm's way. There was no way she would stretch her neck out on the chopping block.

Ayaka had better learn to beware of sharp, shiny objects--and fast--because you never knew when you were going to be stabbed in the back, or by whom.

 

* * *

 

**Usami Residence - Ryugan Temple - Kyoto, Japan**

Sleep continued to elude her. Thoughts of her pending marriage to her childhood love refused to release her from their sweet grip.

The day she had been dreaming of since she was a little girl was fast approaching. She would be lying if she said that she wasn't being tormented by her nerves. There was a herald of butterflies dancing the waltz in her stomach, several in fact. It was enough to make her nauseous. As nervous as she was, though, she was also excited. How could she not be? Before long, she would be known as Ayaka Uesugi. The knowledge that she would soon be blessed with her beloved's name made her giddy.

With a content sigh, Ayaka rolled over.

A silver framed photograph on the bottom shelf of her headboard caught her attention. It twinkled in the beam of moonlight that filtered in through a narrow gap in her tiny bedroom's only window, now at her back. She smiled at the handsome face grinning back at her. Wiggling a hand out from under the thin sheet, she stretched her arm over her head and grabbed the frame. It was oddly cold. Settling onto her back, she kissing the tips of her index and middle fingers of her free hand and pressed them against the cool glass.

"Good night my love," she whispered.

Soon, it won't be a photograph, but the real deal she would be able to kiss good night.

With a smile on her face, Ayaka hugged the photograph to her chest and turned back onto her side, finally falling into a light slumber.

 

* * *

 

The shadows beneath Ayaka's bedroom window stirred. A tall brunette, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail, and clad not all in black (for that would draw unnecessary attention), but in dark street clothes (dark enough to be able to melt within the shadows so as not to be seen, but light enough so that if she were noticed, nobody would think her choice of attire too much like those from a spy movie) stepped forward. The shadows reluctantly fell back. Tipping her head back, her dark hazel eyes twinkling in the moonlight, she gazed up at the darkened window where her target lay. A grin slowly curled its way onto her face.

"Let the fun begin," she whispered.

 

* * *

**III**

* * *

**En Route - Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

Something had gone wrong with the last shipment. While neither of the parties involved had solid concrete proof to back up their claims one way or another, both were just as adamantly sure that the other was at fault. Blame was being tossed around like a beanbag during a game of hot potato. His associates were blaming him for the shipment’s failure to arrive in Hong Kong. Unless the ship had run aground, hit stormy weather, was capsized by a freak tsunami wave, or was highjacked by a group of Somali pirates, the shipment should have arrived in Hong Kong a week ago. Seeing as he hadn’t received word of any of the aforementioned happening, it was safe to assume that the shipment had indeed arrived in Hong Kong. When the palettes were loaded into the container and then the container lifted onto the boat, he had actually been at the shopping yard. It seems as if someone was trying to pull a fast one. He would not put it passed Hong Kong to claim to have never received the shipment when in fact they had received it just so they did not have to pay him for their generous purchase and could then pocket whatever profit they made by re-selling the shipment.

Apparently, he was in business with a bunch of baboons. Good thing he made sure everything was documented in triple.

This debacle was what he should be thinking about as it could possibly cost him millions, if not more, but instead his mind kept drifting back to a pregnant pink-haired eighteen year old and the child they possibly had created together. The knowledge that by this time come Monday, he could quite possibly be a father had him giddy as a schoolgirl and as high as a kite. It was an exhilarating feeling, albeit a bit strange, but exciting nonetheless.

For as far back as he could remember there has always been this longing, this yearning to have a family of his own. Call it the ticking of his biological clock. Like the cuckoo-less cuckoo clock that used to hang in the living room of his grandmother’s house, his clock ticked loudly. The noise was incessant and brash and continued to grow louder with each tick. The sound was nearly deafening.

Long has he been resigned to his fate. Eventually, the clock will come to a stop. It would not be by his own hand. No. The batteries would drain. The internal mechanism would rust. For whatever reasons devices, machines, and such fail, there comes a time when everything stops. His biological clock was no exception. When that times approaches--and it would--it would be too late.

He really should not be allowing his hopes to soar so far. He wouldn’t be able to reach them. The possibility was, after all, slim. Very. But…

Kizou reached into the inner pocket of his black Gucci suit jacket and pulled out a photograph of a child who was the spitting image of his late younger brother grinned madly back at him. He could not stop the smile that lit his face, but just as quickly, it vanished, repelled by the grim thoughts flashing through his mind.

It could very well turn out that Shuichi and little Takanori, if the child turned out to indeed be his, will be a liability. The knowledge that having a family could be used to bring him down had always been in the forefront of his mind, but it had not put a damper on the longing. Liability or not, if little Takanori turned out to be his son, he would move Heaven and Hell to make sure both he and Shuichi were safe.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou Household - Kyoto, Japan**

It was growing late, but even though both were growing weary, their yawns increasing in appearance and their eyelids growing heavier, neither Mai nor her husband made an effort to move from their current positions on the sofa in front of the television. The crime drama, which happened to be a favorite to both, might as well be instead some infomercial for all the attention that was being paid to it. Instead, each was lost in thought.

Mai Shindou lay curled at her husband’s side. The hefty weight of his arm was felt around her shoulders. An equally hefty weight of morose had settled over her when she returned home, adding to the already overwhelming depression eating away at her.

_“Ma! You’ll never guess!”_ An excited Maiko had met her at the door earlier that evening.

Her heart sank at the shocking revelation.

Apparently, while she had been traipsing around Tokyo in search of a son that she had begun to believe did not want to be found, in actuality, it turned out Shuichi had been here in Kyoto the whole time.

Chestnut eyes burned with the threat of tears.

Fate was a cruel mistress.

In all honesty, it had taken everything she had, every ounce of courage, all of her nerve and a not so firm resolve that had been on the verge of bursting during the whole journey, to actually go through with the decision to sit down with her son face to face in order to try to mend the rift between them. And to discover that not only had her son not been home, but had in fact, been here in Kyoto was more than a little disappointing. It was disheartening. If it were anyone else or if she and Shuichi did not have the history they did, she could just chalk it up to a case of bad luck, but unfortunately, it was because of the tension between them that she had to wonder about the strange coincidence. Had he somehow known? Had he been trying to avoid her?

There was always another possibility. As slim as it was, Shuichi could have always been in Kyoto in order to try to make amends with her, the same as she had been doing. She was not at all positive that was the case, but she had to hold onto the hope it gave her. The alternative was not something she cared to dwell on.

_“He said he was in town on business,”_ was what Maiko told her.

Was that really why he was in town? Business?

While his wife wallowed is misery, Morihiro’s chest swelled with pride. He was proud that Shuichi had been able to hold his head up through all the turmoil and upheaval. As he swam through the tumultuous waters of his existence, time and again, the desire to give up, to sink into the cold, iciness surrounding him had to have been nearly crushing. The urge nearly suffocating. Yet, Shuichi had pushed on until he’d reached the shore and the comforting warmth of Eiri Yuki. That man was a godsend, the best that could ever have happened to Shuichi.

While he would regret until his dying breath the way he had treated Shuichi, regret that he allowed his jealousy and anger and bitterness to consume him, he would never regret that smile he had seen when he’d caught sight of his children speaking. His son was happy and that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

It was late; how late, neither was certain and neither was in any particular hurry to find out. For neither had any particular interest in the time. They had one thing on their minds and the only commonality it had to time was this: “How long till I have another orgasm?”

It seemed to be a contest. How many times can I make my partner climax? So far, Eiri was in the lead. It was nearly two to one. Not that that was any surprise. Eiri had always had more control. That was not to say that Shuichi had less or even no control over his bodily functions--which in a way, was a pretty accurate assessment--but only in regards with Eiri, his husband of nearly two years and father of his children.

Nobody but Shuichi knew about the one weakness Eiri had and he used it to his advantage whenever possible, even though he knew doing so was a suicidal move. For reasons unknown, Eiri’s ear was so sensitive that it was considered high treason to tread anywhere near it.

Shuichi‘s weakness, on the other hand, was well known. There was no hiding it. And like Shuichi, Eiri took advantage of his lover’s weakness whenever possible. All Eiri had to do was whisper seductively, lick the outer shell of his ear and glide those oh so skilled hands down his body. They did not even have to touch him intimately. It did not take much to make Shuichi Shindou climax. A mere look from Eiri and for one heart stopping moment, Shuichi was in Nirvana. While Eiri took pride in not only how little he actually had to do to plunge his lithe baka over the summit, but also how it was only him that could propel him up the steep incline.

Shuichi was half embarrassed that he had so little control around Eiri, but on the other hand, like Eiri, he also felt a swell of pride that it was only Eiri that could make him feel this way. It was only him. Only him. His one and only.

The balcony doors had been left open and the vertical blinds were pulled back to allow the cool breeze entrance. The two lovers shivered in reaction as the air hit their fever induced skin. Moonlight glided into the otherwise twilight strewn room to dance upon sweat glistened skin.

Panting heavily, Shuichi’s loosened tongue filled the master bedroom with incomprehensible noises and utterances. He gripped the bedspread beneath him with fisted hands as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him, over him, within him. It was almost too much to bear. Almost. As if in the throes of some nightmare, he tossed his head about. In a way, it was a nightmare. For it was pure evil what Eiri could do to him with those slender digits that pounded away at the computer all day and that muscle at the floor of the mouth.

Yet another orgasm swept through him. The force of it bowed his back and curled his toes. Already fatigued muscles trembled. It colored his vision and ripped a strangled cry from his lips.

Eiri raised his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and glanced up his lover’s sweat and come covered body with lust-filled eyes. When his gaze landed on Shuichi’s belly, swollen with child, his ravenous gaze softened and a surge of pride rose within him.

The feeling of being watched stole over him. Lifting his gaze, he caught violet orbs watching him intently. They exchanged a smile. While no words were uttered, a million and one things were said.

Sitting up, and ignoring his protesting muscles still trembling with fatigue, Shuichi drew Eiri up into his arms. Their lips met briefly in a chaste kiss that sent tingles throughout both. Pulling out of the kiss, smirking at the light growl that trickled out of Eiri, Shuichi maneuvered so that he was sitting in Eiri’s lap with his legs hooked around Eiri’s waist. He twined his arms around Eiri’s neck and threaded his fingers in the luscious blond locks.

With the lightest of touches, Eiri caressed Shuichi’s collarbone. It sent delicious shudders through Shuichi, who shivered in delight. Shuichi gave a breathy sigh that went right to Eiri’s already throbbing penis. Eiri gave a twist and a slight upward thrust of his hips. In response to the rigid cock rubbing at his anus, Shuichi tossed his head back and gave a throaty moan.

Panting heavily, half-lidded violet eyes glazed over with lust locked onto hazel eyes golden like the sun.

Eiri trailed his hands down Shuichi’s chest, ghosting over the pert nipples and down his sides. Giggling, Shuichi squirmed at the ticklish sensation. Grabbing Shuichi’s hips, Eiri lifted him up to his knees. Grabbing a firm hold of Shuichi’s buttocks, Eiri guided the pregnant singer over his erection.

The pain was immediate. Shuichi hissed, tensing around the large invader piercing him. He screwed his eyes shut. A stray tear leaked out. Eiri brushed it away. His hands found Eiri’s shoulders, his nails leaving half moon gouges on his back. Waiting patiently, Eiri whispered words of comfort in his husband’s ear and ran his hands up and down Shuichi’s back.

Eventually, the pain lessened and a dance older than time began.

 

* * *

 

**Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Tatsuha wasn’t sure what had woken him. He stared up at the ceiling that was hidden among the shadows of the night, listening intently. Except for the buzz created by the static silence of the late hour, all seemed to be quiet. There was no inclination of what could have stirred him from a dead sleep. Shrugging the mysteriousness of it off, a yawn seized him as exhaustion slipped back over him. Heavy lids drifted closed over obsidian eyes.

Settling onto his side, he scooted closer towards the middle of the bed and pulled the crocheted blanket up over his shoulders. It had been a wedding gift from Ryuichi’s mother. Summer though it may be, the nights were not warm enough to warrant pulling the fan out of the closet, let alone turning on the air conditioner, though it was not cool enough to bury beneath layers of blankets either.

As sleep descended quickly, he reached a hand out underneath the blanket and groped the bed blindly for the warm body he intended to cuddle against. When his hand met with the edge of the mattress without once encountering another warm body, his eyes snapped open. Empty. There was a surge of momentary panic that just as quickly melted away. Exhaustion took its place. Flipping onto his back, Tatsuha draped an arm over his brow and heaved a sigh.

It was not very difficult to figure out where his wayward husband was. Even though it was the middle of the night, there was only one place Ryuichi Sakuma would be.

 

* * *

 

Once again, Ryuichi could not sleep. Thoughts of his son continued to plague him.

If he did not confess the truth to his son, Eiri threatened to do so himself. That was not something he could allow to happen. It was going to be hard enough as it is for Shuichi to learn that his whole life had been one big lie without having to hear it from someone other than the horse’s mouth. But it was not as easy as everyone apparently seemed to believe it was. He could not very well just walk up to Shuichi and say, “Hey, guess what? Everybody’s been lying to you your entire life. I’m really your father and not your brother. You see it all started when I noticed this cute older guy backstage after one of our concerts in New York.” Yeah. That would go over real well. Instead of being a deadbeat older brother, he would become a deadbeat father. What an improvement. If their roles were reversed, he was not sure he would not want to know. Ignorance is bliss after all.

After the truth was revealed, there was no question or doubt in his mind that his son would not forgive him, would probably even sever all ties--cCompletely. Shuichi would walk out that door and out of his life without so much as a backward glance. There was no way he would be able to blame Shuichi if that turned out to be the case. Tatsuha, as well as Eiri, had not taken the news too well and…well; he could not very well claim it has nothing to do with either because the truth was it did. It just did not affect them in the same way as it did Shuichi.

As slim as it was, there was the possibility that Shuichi would not head for the hills screaming bloody murder. Shuichi could very well take the news surprisingly well. As nice as that sounded, it was also unrealistic, terribly so, but it gave him hope and that was what he needed to be able to face his son.

It was not as if he was expecting Shuichi to start calling him “dad”. That was not likely to happen any time soon, or ever. It would be enough if Shuichi were to just accept him in his life, in whatever capacity Shuichi felt most comfortable.

The only positive aspect he could see amidst the cloudy road ahead was the hope that his son might be able to forgive him one day.

Brown eyes blurred behind a veil of tears.

A squeal brought his attention back to the television. The image on the screen caused him to blush in embarrassment.

Was that really him? How young he looked! It was hard to believe that he had ever been that young once upon a time. It seemed like another lifetime ago. And what was up with hair? Talk about embarrassing. It was so impossibly short, well compared to the shoulder length layered locks he currently sported. Short hair for men was always stylish and trendy, but it just made him look like a freak, especially those sideburns. Could they be any longer? And the top of his head looked like a bushy mop. Who had been their stylist back then? Honestly, what had he been thinking?

The fourteen year old him on the television was standing in a long sterile looking hallway that was as bright as the surface of the sun plastered to a long waist high window like one of those plushies with suction cups on its paws. Ryuichi recognized the area instantly as the Maternity Ward in the hospital in which Shuichi was born.

With impossibly huge dark brown eyes glistening with unshed tears, the fourteen year old turned to face the unsteady camera. He was beaming, despite the tears. His mouthed started moving, forming words, but Ryuichi could not hear them. There was no sound. But he knew exactly what was being said.

“My son.”

The ecstatic boy on the flat screen turned back to the window he had just been plastered against and started pointing. On the other side was the Newborn Nursery.

The image was a blur of color and movement as the camera panned around. It was enough to make one seasick. Finally, the camera steadied--as much as was possible--on the room beyond the window where dozens of babies lay swaddled in clear beds.

The cameraman’s reflection appeared in the window. It showed a young boy not much older than the fourteen-year-old Ryuichi who, on the edge of the screen, was still acting as if he had won the lottery. The second teen with his blond hair and bright green eyes, was instantly recognizable as Tohma Seguchi. Ryuichi chuckled. The man had not changed a bit.

Half of the babies were sleeping while the remaining were either asleep or just staring randomly at nothing. It still amazed him to see nearly half of the babies in the nursery wrapped in pink blankets indicating they were girls. Over thirty percent of the remaining were boys swaddled in blue while the rest, less than twenty percent, of the babies were wrapped in yellow blankets, including one baby in particular that the camera focused on. Directly in the center of all those screaming babies.

His laughter chocked to a halt.

Shuichi.

A lump formed in his throat.

At this point, he hadn’t known the reality of what he had just readily agreed to. It was enough to make him want to crawl through the television to smack the boy he had been and scream at him.

“What were you thinking?”

But he did not have to ask because he already knew. It was for the best.

“Are you sure?” asked a tiny voice.

If he wanted to be honest with himself, then no, he wasn’t sure. He never had been. He’d just had to convince himself that this was all for the best otherwise he would not have been able to live with himself.

The images came to an abrupt end. Instead, static filled the screen and filtered out into the silence of the living room.

The lump in Ryuichi’s throat grew. He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not-

The first traitorous tear slid down his cheek. He brushed it aside only to have two more take its place. Unable to stop them, Ryuichi dropped his face into his hands and sobbed quietly while his guilt and sorrow swelled within him.

A sudden blast of sound shattered the tranquil silence of the night.

Ryuichi’s snapped up in surprise. He scrubbed at his tear-stained face and stared at the television screen in confusion. What was going on? What was this? He hadn’t realized there was anything after the footage Tohma had taken. Actually, there shouldn’t be. He was fairly certain that the tape Tohma had used in his camcorder had been a new one fresh out of its wrapper. But if that was the case, then what was this?

Sliding to the edge of the couch, Ryuichi squinted at the screen as an overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over him. The room looked vaguely familiar, but he could not place where he had seen it before or when.

It all fell into place when a familiar figure stepped into view. “Yuki,” he gasped in shock.

 

* * *

 

**The Next Day -- Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Today was the day. Shuichi could not remember a day when he was more nervous. With his arms crossed over his chest, he paced restlessly in the foyer. His messenger bag bounced lightly against his hip as he spun away from the front door of the condominium and strolled through the front entrance to the dining table, spun and walked back towards the front door. Back and forth. Over and over again. Soon, he would wear a tread in the floor. Wouldn’t Eiri like that?

Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, his brow creased in thought.

Even though Shuichi had given in to the demands made on him, truth be told, his opinion on the matter had not changed. He did not believe having a DNA paternity test was necessary. As soon as Eiri had decided to take responsibility for a child that was not his, Shuichi had known. There was no doubt in Shuichi‘s mind that Eiri was--now and forever--little Takanori’s father. That would never change, even if he and Eiri were to have a falling out. But whether Shuichi wanted to proceed with this or not was not an issue because this was something he had to do for his son and also for the man who had fathered little Takanori.

Shuichi paused his ceaseless meanderings.

He could not help but wonder if his son would thank him for this one day.

Unbeknownst, he had halted before their family photograph. He tipped his head back and saw it hanging on the wall above the credenza. It brought a smile to his face. Soon they would have to get another one. He dropped his arms and encircled his belly. The butterflies settled down as he became lost in the memories of the picture.

“Papa go bye-bye?”

At the sound of his son’s voice, Shuichi turned around and watched as, hand in hand, little Takanori and Eiri stepped around the corner.

“Yeah,” Eiri was saying in that light voice all parents got when speaking with children. Though, Eiri denied it if anyone were to point it out. “That’s right.”

Shuichi’s smile morphed into a grin.

Eiri raised his head and spotted him standing there. “Ready?”

The nervousness returned. “As I’ll ever be,” Shuichi admitted.

 

**…To Be Continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Based on the Riviera Theater in North Tonawanda, NY where I live. For more information (as well as an image), go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Riviera_Theatre_(North_Tonawanda,_New_York)
> 
> (2) Based on Buffalo City Hall located in Buffalo, NY. For more info (as well as an image), go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buffalo_City_Hall
> 
> (3) To see this gun, go to: ableammo.com and search for the “10505 Benelli Vinci ComforTech Plus Semi-Auto Shotgun”.
> 
> (4) To see this gun, go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M24_Sniper_Weapon_System


	7. The Longest Weekend Ever

* * *

 

**Chapter 7: The Longest Weekend Ever**

**Uesugi-Sakuma Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Tatsuha was running a comb through his hair when Ryuichi appeared in the doorway behind him. “Hey,” he grinned at the other man’s reflection in the mirror. “Ready to go?” Setting down his comb, he turned around.

Seeing as both Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck were in-between albums, Shuichi decided it would be a wonderful idea if everyone were to “volunteer” their time to help move him and little Takanori from the apartment he’d been renting in Bunkyo-ku for the last six months and back into Eiri’s condominium here in Chiyoda.

Of course, Tohma had bowed out as he claimed to have “meetings” all weekend. That wasn‘t unusual in and of itself as he was not only the producer for but also an instrumental member of the most popular band in Japan. Not to mention he had a record company as well as several other ventures, which included a gay nightclub in Kyoto, to run. The man was busier than Saint Nick on Christmas Eve. But Tatsuha couldn’t help wondering if that was the real reason the man declined the invite. He could not picture his brother-in-law doing such menial work as carrying boxes and furniture as if he were a professional mover. A blue-collar employee Tohma Seguchi was not. That was why he employed grunts.

Noriko decided to use her down time to take her husband and daughter camping so she was out of contact for at least another week.

As their father was feeling a little under the weather, Mika had also declined. She was back in Kyoto taking care of him.

Tatsuha spoke with his brother last night after Shuichi had called up to deliver the good news. Of course, Eiri did not come right out and say he was happy Shuichi was moving back home. Instead, his brother said, _“I’d rather have a heart attack.”_

_“C’mon Aniki. Admit you missed him,”_ Tatsuha teased.

There was a snort. _“Of course I did. He is my lil’ fuck hole after all.”_

_“Aniki!”_ That was definitely something he did not need or want to hear. _“Must you be so crude?”_

_“Though,”_ Eiri continued as if Tatsuha had not spoken, _“it was too damn quiet around here.”_

Knowing his brother as he did, Tatsuha knew that was as close as he was ever going to get to ever hearing that Eiri Yuki missed Shuichi Shindou.

Back in the present, Tatsuha’s grin faded as his husband remained too quiet. He was used to his husband moping about the house recently, but he seemed more distracted than anything, which in and of itself was not surprising given the turn of events as of late, but this was different. Ryuichi seemed more troubled.

“Ryu?” he called in concern.

He wondered what happened. Was Ryuichi worried about seeing his son? He could not blame him if that was the case. If their positions were reversed, he would be just as nervous. Shuichi could very well tell Ryuichi to fuck off. That would kill Ryuichi.

“What’s up?”

Standing in the doorway of the master bedroom, Ryuichi stared blankly down at his bare feet. Wood flooring was under his heels while carpeting was under his toes.

“There’s something I want to show you.”

Tatsuha cocked his head. “What? Now?”

Ryuichi nodded. “It’ll take a sec.”

Tatsuha frowned in confusion.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

There was utter chaos in the Shindou-Uesugi household.

Carrying a box that weighed twice as much as his son, Eiri staggered into the condominium with a sound curse as he tripped over a Thomas the Train toy that he had not seen until the last minute. Why it was sitting right out in the middle of the hallway he did not know. Muttering obscenities under his breath about a certain baka and his own stupid lack of control, the blond haired author followed the plastic runner that had been laid throughout the house. It made matters so much easier. Having to take one’s shoes off upon entering the house just so boxes and furniture could be moved into their appropriate places and then having to put the shoes back on so that the trip could begin all over again was exasperating.

“Baka,” he barked as he passed through the living room.

The door that led from the living room into a hall where the laundry room, bathroom and three bedrooms were located--including his office, little Takanori’s bedroom and the nursery--had been propped open. Of course, several books of his--including his dictionary--were being used as the doorstop. Typical. The only books Shuichi owned were mangas. Not exactly heavy reading.

Two raven heads popped up over the back of the sofa. A set of violet eyes and hazel eyes just as golden as his own peered at him. “Yeah?”

Eiri sneered at the sight of his husband and their son. “Instead of stuffing your face with those damn pudding pops, why don’t you make yourself useful and see if Fujisaki and Nakano need some help?”

“Can’t,” Shuichi said around what remained of said pudding pop. “Pregnant. Remember?”

Eiri snorted.

“Doctor’s orders,” Shuichi tossed over his shoulder as he turned back towards the television to finish watching Spongebob. “I have to take it easy.”

Eiri rolled his eyes at his husband‘s back. They both knew that Shuichi followed the advice of his doctors whenever it suited him. Apparently, this was one of those times.

As he turned away, he caught sight of his son watching him. Like Shuichi, little Takanori was nearly completely covered in chocolate. He knew buying those damnedable things would come back to haunt him. So help them if they got chocolate all over his sofa. “What?”

Little Takanori smiled a wide chocolaty grin. The two year old jumped to his feet and began hopping up and down on the sofa cushions while trying to eat his pudding pop. It was a talent that he had yet to master. It was no wonder most of the treat was on his face.

“Get your son off the couch Shuichi,” Eiri told the younger man as he carried the box into his son’s room before his arms fell off. How many damn toys did one child need? Honestly. Most of the boxes were either Shuichi’s clothes or little Takanori’s toys.

“Sure, he’s my son when it suits you,” he heard Shuichi grumble.

Eiri chuckled despite having his own words tossed back at him. He set the box next to the others. Straightening, he stretched his arms over his head and arched his back first this way and then that. It cracked deliciously.

There was a loud clatter followed by cursing. Someone else must have tripped over little Takanori’s toy train. Guess he should have moved it, huh? Oops.

“Language,” Shuichi called out.

Eiri walked out of his son’s bedroom and down the hall to the living room.

“Shu! A little help?”

Sounded like Nakano. It sounded as if he were a little stressed. Wonder why?

“Master bedroom,” Shuichi tossed out without taking his eyes from the television screen.

Eiri chuckled lightly. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the doorframe and watched as Hiro and Suguru appeared. They were struggling with what looked like a steamer trunk. The thing was massive. He wondered where and when Shuichi had picked it up. Shuichi hadn’t had it when he moved out. Given their expressions, it was a safe bet it was also heavy.

“Gee, thanks, buddy,” Hiro said as he maneuvered backwards along the plastic runner.

“Welcome,” Shuichi said brightly.

Eiri saw it coming. It was as if time suddenly slowed down. For a moment, it seemed as if there was enough time to warn the redhead of the impending doom, but in reality, knew there wasn’t even enough time to draw a breath. Instead, he watched as Hiro tripped over an uneven portion of the plastic runner he and Suguru were following around the dining table towards a door at the far end of the kitchen, which had also been propped open with some of Eiri’s books. The hall on the other side led to the master suite as well as a forth bedroom and a small bathroom. In an envious maneuver, Hiro was able to keep himself from falling flat on his ass, but he nearly dropped the trunk.

“Woh,” Suguru cried, staggering under the intense weight of the trunk that was suddenly thrust upon him. “Watch it,” he snapped once he had a firm grip on the trunk once again. The last thing he needed was to have it falling on his toes.

“Hey! I tripped,” Hiro snapped back.

“Well maybe if you were watching where you were going-!”

“It’s pretty hard to do that when one is walking backwards!”

Eiri pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh that drowned out the rest of the arguing that continued down the hall. He felt the beginnings of a headache and for once, it was not cause by either his hyperactive husband or equally as hyperactive son. “Are you sure they’re not secretly dating?”

Shuichi barked out a laugh.

Little Takanori, who Shuichi had--thank Buddha--stopped from jumping all over the furniture as if it was his personal trampoline had taken up to rocking back and forth while he watched cartoons besides Shuichi. Eiri had no idea why his son did that. Mika claimed he and Tatsuha used to do the same thing. As nice as that little tidbit of information was, it did not explain why children apparently found it fun to not so much rock as pummel the furniture. Eiri had visions of his beautiful--not to mention expensive--leather sofa as kindling.

At the sound of Shuichi’s laughter, little Takanori stopped his rocking motion and glanced up at him.

“Hiro and Fujisaki? Not likely,” Shuichi snorted.

“Oh?”

Shuichi nodded.

“They remind me of the Fujiwara’s next door.”

Shuichi paused. He’d never thought about that before, but Eiri was right. “Fujisaki isn’t interested in dating, or so he says,” he added, “and Hiro seems to have a crush on this girl, Yoshiki Kitazawa, or something or other.”

“Who?” Eiri asked as he rounded the sofa. He dropped down next to his husband, draping an arm across the back of the couch.

Shuichi snuggled into his side with a content sigh.

Little Takanori, thrilled at having his father join him, crawled across the sofa, and Shuichi, to sit on his lap.

Eiri wrapped his free arm around his son.

“This girl who works at the studio. Not sure what she does, but she’s always wandering around chatting it up with the artists. She and Hiro seem to have hit it off. Though…”

“Though?”

Shuichi bit his lip.

“She’s really a he,” came an unexpected effeminate voice from behind them.

Eiri glanced over his shoulder.

A figure, who at first and even second glance appeared to be a woman, stood behind them carrying two boxes, one stacked on top of the other, effortlessly as if they were filled with nothing but air. Makeup artist turned music artist, Eri Yamaguchi was Bad Luck’s new drummer. It was a profession one would never guess the man was involved in. Though, Eri had retained his title as makeup artist as well as wardrobe fashionista specifically for the band. That Eiri could believe, but drummer? He still could not wrap his mind around that and that was after he’d heard the man play.

Eiri had only met the man once before and in his opinion, once was more than enough.

Even off stage, the man looked like he was ready for the stage. He wore more makeup than Shuichi, Mika, and Maiko combined. Hell, Eri wore more makeup than every single model on the face of the planet combined. Dark pink blush accentuated high cheekbones. A combination of heavy eyeliner, mascara and turquoise eye shadow brought out his baby blues. Bright pink dyed hair had been straightened and swept off to one side, revealing a giant pink hoop earring. A form fitting three-quarter sleeve black scoop necked T-shirt, knee length black pencil skirt and knee high, chunky heeled boots over fish net stockings completed the ensemble.

A definite strange character, but he was as much of a genius on the drums as Hiro was on the guitar, Suguru on the keyboards and Shuichi on vocals. Not to mention he had an amazing voice. It blended perfectly with Shuichi’s.

Given that Shuichi was gay, both Hiro and Suguru were bisexual, the addition of Eri as a gender-bender--or whatever the man considered himself because Eiri certainly had no idea how to categorize him--completed the set. As popular as Bad Luck was becoming, it was no wonder that Japan’s top rated LGBTQ magazine had named them band of the year twice in a row.

“He?”

“Actually,” Eri explained, “male to female Transsexual.”

“Does Nakano…?” Eiri asked, turning towards Shuichi.

Shuichi shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Honestly, Shuichi, what exactly do you have in that trunk?” Suguru asked as he returned from the master bedroom with Hiro right behind him. “It weights a bloody ass ton.”

Eiri frowned. For people who were apparently not dating, it certainly took them a while to deliver that trunk.

“Uhm…”

At the hesitation, Eiri glanced down at his husband. He cocked an amused eyebrow at the blush that stained Shuichi’s cheeks. Now he was intrigued.

Hiro and Suguru exchanged knowing looks, Hiro looking amused while Suguru looking torn between amused and disgusted.

Deciding he was more annoyed than anything, Suguru stormed out of the condominium with a snort of disgust and meandered his way down the hall to the elevators. He could not believe he had strained his back, nearly dislocated his shoulders, almost broke his fingers and came this close to dropping the offending trunk onto his toes and all so that his best friend and his lover could have their…

“Stuff?” Shuichi squeaked. Never before could Shuichi remember a time when he’d been this embarrassed. He just wanted to curl up and die. He grabbed the nearest throw pillow, which happened to be a dark blue one with a silky cover that was currently lying on the floor where it landed after his son kicked it off the couch and pressed it to his face.

Eiri chuckled as Shuichi slid lower on the sofa.

“Only you, Shu,” Hiro said with an amused shake of his head. A ping resounded through the open door of the condominium. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as the elevator doors slid open and Suguru disappear from view. “Hey, Sug,” he called out. “Hold up!” With a bounce, he trotted after the young keyboardist.

Eyes sparkling in amusement, Eri watched the red-haired guitarist leave the condominium before turning back to the vocalist. “What kind of ‘stuff’?” he pressed.

An offended, “Hey,” could be heard from out in the hallway.

“You know…Stuff,” Shuichi mumbled around the pillow. At the catcall, he tossed the pillow at his friend. He was aiming for his head, but the pillow landed several feet short. “Shut up!” The glare he attempted lost most of its intensity at the bright color that continued to highlight his cheeks.

“Gotcha,” Eri winked.

If possible, Shuichi’s blush deepened.

Eiri chuckled.

Shuichi slapped him halfheartedly.

“So, ‘music stuff’,” Eri read the chicken scratch on the boxes he was carrying. His long pink nails, which happened to match his professionally arched eyebrows, tapped a beat against the underside of the boxes.

“It’s the bedroom down the hall from the master,” Eiri explained. Before Shuichi moved out, the spare bedroom had been used by Shuichi as an in-home studio. They had even looked into having it soundproofed so that professional recording equipment could be installed.

“Right.”

Eiri watched the man saunter off, swishing hips included. “Where the hell did you pick that one up?” The guy was more of a flaming queen than Shuichi.

Shuichi cleared his throat.

Eiri watched as the flush that had started to disappear solidified. He was redder than Hiro’s hair.

“Store,” Shuichi muttered.

Eiri cocked an eyebrow. An amused grin spread across his face. “Where you got the stuff?”

If possible, the blush deepened.

Eiri chuckled.

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

**Horaido Tea House - Kyoto, Japan**

There was nobody who could fully understand what she was going through: head of the class, straight A student, member of the nations top high school debate team, secretary of the Honor’s Society, Vice President of the student body, reporter for the school newspaper, and part time member of the archery club and all on top of being sixteen and pregnant.

Her mother had been a senior in high school, mere weeks from graduation, when she discovered she was pregnant with Ryuichi. After getting over the initial shock, her mother claimed to have been ecstatic at the news.

That her mother would welcome the news of an unplanned pregnancy at such a young age was shocking to Maiko, to say the least. Why hadn’t her mother been terrified? Angry? Confused? Those emotions she would be able to understand, but overjoyed at the news that at seventeen years old her life was over? That she was going to be an unwed single mother responsible for the wellbeing and care of a helpless baby dependent on her for its every need? What about all those sleepless nights? What if when the baby started crying, you could not find a way to make him stop? What if you became one of those parents on the news that forgot their child in the backseat of the car and by the time you returned to the car the child was dead from heat stroke and dehydration? All the possibilities of what could happen terrified Maiko more than anything else.

Of course, her mother was experiencing those same emotions, but apparently, she and her then boyfriend had been discussing getting married and starting a family immediately after graduation anyway, possibly by the end of the summer, so her being pregnant should not have caused any problems.

“Should not have”.

That caught Maiko’s immediate attention.

_“We’d decided that he’d continue on to college and then medical school--he wanted to become a doctor--and I’d remain at home to raise our children. I didn’t see anything wrong with being pregnant sooner then we’d expected,”_ her mother had told her. _“Apparently he did.”_

_“Why? What happened?”_

_“It seems he was all talk.”_ When she’d asked what that meant, her mother had replied, _“When I told him about the baby, he accused me of cheating on him. He refused to accept the child as his and dumped me.”_

As far as Maiko knew, her mother had never spoken to her ex since. However, from what Ryuichi told her, his biological father had tried to get in contact with him once years ago, but Ryuichi told her that he’d told him, _“I don’t know what you’re on about. I already have a father.”_ By that, he was referring to his stepfather, Morihiro Shindou. The man had willingly decided to raise and take responsibility for a child he had no rights to. They may not be related by blood, but Ryuichi considered his stepfather more of a father than the man who got his mother pregnant. _“It takes more than just a night in the sack and some agile little swimmers to be a father,”_ was what Ryuichi told her once. _“Passing on your genes isn’t what makes one a parent.”_

Against the wishes of her family, her mother opted not to have an abortion or give her child up for adoption, which were options being forcibly pushed onto her when threats towards the young man to “do right” by their daughter--meaning marriage--went nowhere.

_“Of course his family backed him,”_ her mother snorted. _“He could do no wrong,”_ she continued in a mocking voice. _“This, of course, made me look like a slut.”_

Her grandparents had even gone so far as to suggest they would send their daughter “to visit relatives out in the country” until the baby was born and then they would take the child in and raise the child as their own.

_“Basically,”_ her mother said, _“my child would become ‘the orphaned son’ of ‘distant relatives’ who ‘perished in a horrible car accident’ and who my parents were ‘gracious enough to take in’.”_

Maiko had never heard such vehemence from her mother before.

_“I was told I’d brought shame down upon our entire family and that our ancestors were weeping with sorrow for my idiocy,”_ Maiko could hear her mother saying, _“but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to run away and hide as if I had something to be ashamed of and I sure as hell wasn’t about to give up my child or pretend that my own son was my little brother.”_ A strange look had appeared on her mother’s face then. When Maiko had asked her what was wrong, her mother had brushed it aside as nothing.

Instead of giving into the demands of her family, her mother moved in with one of the only friends that had not shunned her.

If Maiko had any heroes, it would be her mother. Seventeen years old, fresh out of high school, and already a single parent, but making it work as best as she could.

Then there was Shuichi.

In a way, Shuichi’s and their mother’s stories were similar, but in another they were nothing at all alike. The same could be said if you compared her’s to her mother’s as well as her’s to Shuichi’s.  Nobody could truly comprehend what another person goes through, no matter how similar the situation. Not even walking in that person’s shoes could give one a well-defined comprehensive knowledgability.

Even though they were less than two years apart, she and Shuichi were never very close growing up.  Neither had she been very close to Ryuichi, but there was a sixteen-year gap between her and Ryuichi, not to mention the fact that Ryuichi Sakuma was the lead singer of the hottest band to ever come out of Japan.  That was not to say that her big big brother--meaning Ryuichi--neglected her because that was not the case.  As the only girl in the family, she was spoiled rotten.  Ryuichi had been no exception, but despite the age gap, he had always been closer to Shuichi than to her.  While it sometimes used to make her feel put out, and still did every now and then, she knew that their closeness was due to the love of music that flowed through their veins.  She had always been more into books and studying, something both of which her brothers steered clear.  In fact, she wasn’t sure if either Shuichi or Ryuichi knew where the nearest library was.  Besides, in hindsight it almost seemed as if their parents deliberately tried to keep them--meaning her and Shuichi--from socializing too much, but that assessment was so ridiculous that she did not give it any more consideration than it deserved.

She and Shuichi had barely been acquaintances let alone friends as children, so it came as no surprise at how little she knew about him. She hadn’t even known he was a neutral--it hadn’t exactly been advertised in the Shindou household--until the scandal surrounding his relationship with Eiri Yuki became known. Seeing an obviously pregnant Shuichi Shindou plastered all over the television and newspapers was what made her first realize just how little she knew about her big brother. It was then that she vowed to make up for that.

Besides his obvious love of music, there was not much she could say about him even now. He’d always been a bit distant, except for when Ryuichi was in town and then he stuck to their big brother‘s side like glue--even when they were fighting. She did know that he was involved for a short time with a rough crowd. It was not until recently that she became aware of just how rough of a crowd it was.

Instead of continuing on to high school after barely managing to graduate from middle school, at the age of fourteen Shuichi started a band with Hiroshi Nakano and Suguru Fujisaki--both of whom he has known since they were children--and somehow managed to become involved with the Black Dragons.

It was not too long after that he dropped a bombshell to their parents: he was going to have a baby. It seems that they’d been none too pleased at the news and he was promptly kicked out and disowned. That was something that had never made any sense. If they were going to kick her brother out because he went and did something as asinine as getting himself pregnant then by those same standards should she not have been out on the street?

She still hadn’t received a satisfactory answer to that. Her mother pretended as if she hadn’t spoken when the subject was brought up. Just kept on speaking randomly. Her father ignored her completely. Walked right out of the room without a word. As for Shuichi…

“Just…don’t. Okay? Just don’t.”

Of course, all this turmoil within the family was something she had been ignorant of up until very recently.

At first, she hadn’t even realized that Shuichi was gone. They may not have hung out, but she wasn’t stupid or blind. She knew all about the tension between him and their folks, even if she hadn’t known--and still didn’t know--what it was all about. She’d known that her brother spent as little time as possible at the house, which was another reason they had never been close. He’d never been around. It was only when she started hearing rumors that Tohma bought the floundering L8r Records and soon after signed their first band--that she’d heard via rumors was a band calling themselves Bad Luck, which she knew happened to be the name of Shuichi’s band--that she even realized that her brother was no longer in the house. She went into his room to ask him if the rumors were true that he’d been signed and what she saw left her confused and upset: his room was completely empty.

Their parents told her when she went crying to them, “Gone.” Well, more like her father said with this indifferent attitude. Her mother had just started sobbing. That was all either of them would say on the subject: Shuichi left.

The first time she and Shuichi sat down to have a real conversation was when she suspected she was pregnant, a mere twenty-six weeks ago. He’d volunteered to go to the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test for her.

Ironically, it was this selfless act that gave birth to the rumors that Shuichi had been unfaithful to his husband--she hadn’t understood what one had to do with the other until Shuichi’s publicist announced not long after, mere days later, that the two were separating. The paparazzo that seemed to stalk both of her brothers (apparently twenty-four/seven because the buzzards had absolutely no life whatsoever), photographed Shuichi while in the pharmacy holding the pregnancy test and leapt to “an obvious assumption”.

She should have known better than to send Shuichi of all people, knowing how famous he was becoming, but she hadn’t really understood just how famous her brother was. Besides, she had been so scared; terrified that she might actually be pregnant and afraid that someone would see her and jump to conclusions before she knew either way.

The first time the two of them sat down and talked--really talked, Shuichi had confessed that when he discovered he was pregnant with little Takanori, he’d honestly thought about having an abortion. He’d even made the appointment and went down to the clinic. To say she was surprised that he’d actually hosted the idea, even for a short time, would be an understatement.

_“Dad said I’d be able to come home if I did but…I wasn’t going to do it for him,”_ Shuichi told her. _“I could care less what he thinks about me. I just didn’t want Eiri to hate me.”_

This was also when she learned that Shuichi hadn’t just “left” as their parents claimed, but had in fact been kicked out of the house.

_“Quite literally,”_ was what Shuichi said.

Even though it made some semblance of sense, Maiko still had a hard time believing their father was that cold hearted.

If what Shuichi told her was in fact true, then she was glad her brother had Eiri.

In that, she counted herself lucky. Yes, her parents had been disappointed in her when she told them she was going to have a baby. She had been disappointed in her, too. However, unlike her mother and brother before her, her parents had not shown her the door. If they would have treated her the same way, she was not sure what she would have done. Many of her friends started to snub her when they learned of her pregnancy, even though it was these same friends that goateed her into the now infamous rendezvous.

All three of them--herself, her mother and her brother--had such similar stories, but it just wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

The jingle of bells cut through her thoughts.

When she looked up, her heart lifted up into her throat and then slammed back down into her chest. It was like missing a step in the dark or being in alone in a car as it sped over an inclined section of the road. It sent a surge of adrenaline through her that had her pulse racing. Warmth heated her cheeks. She bit her lip to keep a grin from appearing. There standing just inside the front door of the small tea shop not far from her parents’ house stood the now infamous captain of the swimming team. This was the guy she has had a crush on since middle school, the guy who used her attraction to get her to sleep with him all so that he had the privilege of admitting to having slept with Shuichi Shindou’s baby sister.

Some would think that after everything she had endured because of him, her body would stop acting of its own accord, but it did not work that way. How she wished it did. She could no more help the blush that wormed its way up her neck or how her pulse started racing or how her palms grew slick with perspiration then she could stop the sun from rising at dawn and setting at dusk. She did not like how she lost all coherent thought at the sight of him or how her IQ went from above to below average. She wanted to hate him, to despise him, to spit on the ground he walked on. Her life would be so much easier. Unfortunately, life was not that black and white. What she did feel was a surge of anger at how this man had treated her. Her ire drowned out the lingering feelings she still, unfortunately, harbored for him.

When Shuichi stopped over the day before, she told him about the meeting she had, for some strange reason, agreed to.

_“Want me to come?”_ he’d asked her.

_“Why?”_ She’d honestly had no idea why he’d want to at first.

_“As a bodyguard. You know,”_ he’d continued with a sly glint in his amethyst eyes, _“just in case things get violent. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to my little nephew.”_

She thanked him for the offer, but turned him down flat--and with a snort.

Her crush’s dark gaze scanned the nearly empty restaurant. It was not long before he spotted her in a corner booth. He made his way towards her, attempting to smile, but it looked sickly. “Maiko,” he greeted.

Maiko narrowed her gaze. “That’s Shindou,” she corrected, “Mr. Horigami.”

The smile faltered. A look of uncertainty crossed his face.

“So, Mr. Horigami, what can I do for you? And please make it quick,” she added, fighting a smirk at his fallen expression and at the same time wishing she could wipe such an unbecoming expression from his face, “my parents and I are finishing up decorating the nursery this weekend.”

Gazing at the checkered flooring under his feet, Horigami started nodding and could not seem to stop. “That’s actually why I wanted to speak with you.”

That had Maiko’s pulse racing again. She could not determine if it was out of dread, anticipation, or a combination of both.

As he was sliding into the booth opposite her, she was reminded of something else Shuichi said, _“By the way, tell the douche bag-”_

“My brothers say hello by the way.”

The color drained out of Horigami’s face.

Maiko could not stop the smirk this time. Oh, this was going to be fun.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

A short time later, Maiko slunk into the house. She tossed her keys into a dish on a table against the wall, dropped her purse onto the floor and started to remove her shoes. The motions were so ingrained that she did them automatically while her mind was occupied by thoughts of Horigami.

_“I want to be involved with the baby.”_

That had certainly been a surprise. If he’d been looking for a way to wipe the smirk from her face and/or gain the upper hand then he had accomplished his goal. She had been so flabbergasted by his confession that she’d fled the teashop without answering him.

Horigami claimed to want to be a part of his child’s life. It was something she had been wishing for, hoping for, praying for, ever since she discovered she was pregnant. Now that it seemed to be a reality and not just a dream, she wasn’t so sure.

Was she afraid? Partly. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with him after the way he had humiliated her in front of half of the school at that party and then the way she was scorned, ridiculed and mocked by his friends and the rest of the school ever since. Then he’d had the gull to pretend that that night had never happened.

_“I’m pregnant.”_ It had taken her nearly a month to work up the courage to tell him. It hadn’t been easy. Far from it. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do and that included having to tell her parents that their precious baby girl was no longer a baby. She’d been trembling so badly the entire time and had felt sick to her stomach. It had taken all her nerve, and then some, to not spin around and forget her duty.

_“Good for you,”_ he’d replied. His laugh was echoed by the gaggle of goons that followed him like a shadow everywhere. _“And I should care because…?”_

She’d opened her mouth to say, “Because it’s your baby,” but instead, she’d watch as he walked away, still laughing, and what was left of her unshattered heart broke.

If that was the way she was treated, then how would he treat their child? A child he, up until just moments ago, denied existed.

But…

Whether she hated his guts, or just wished she could, he was, after all, the father of her child, so didn’t that mean that he deserved to be involved in his child’s life?

“Hey, honey,” called a soft voice.

Half stooped over with her shoes clasped securely in her hand, Maiko saw her mother walking out of the kitchen carrying a wooden tray. On the tray was a clear glass jug filled with dark amber liquid, ice that clinked against the sides of the jug as she moved, and lemon slices. Three glasses turned upside down were arranged around the jug.

“How’d it go?”

Maiko shrugged as she placed her shoes neatly besides that of her mothers within the shoe closet. Grabbing the strap of her purse, she slung it over her shoulder and followed her mother up the staircase to Shuichi’s old bedroom. “Fine I guess,” she answered vaguely.

When she’d told her brother that his old room was being turned into the nursery, Shuichi had seemed genuinely happy. Despite what people seemed to believe, Shuichi was actually fairly good at hiding his emotions. It was no cop face, but he had enough skill to fool the best of them, so she was not sure if he was truly alright with his old bedroom being converted into a nursery for the only grandchild their parents had bothered to acknowledge.

“What he want?” Mai asked, referring to the meeting with the boy who dared to defile her daughter.

“He wants to be part of his child’s life,” Maiko confessed.

Mai’s face lit up at the news as she stepped into the nursery. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” Maiko said. The smile she tried to give wavered around the edges.

“Oh, hey, sweetie,” her father greeted as he turned around and saw her entering behind his wife.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Glad you’re back. Gotta question for you. What do you think about…?”

Maiko was relieved that he didn’t ask any questions about her meeting with Horigami and that her mother did not press the issue. She was so confused as it was. All she wanted was time to think and digest everything. Maybe she’d give Shuichi a call later and ask his opinion. For the moment though, she lost herself into placing the finishing touches onto the nursery for her son.

 

* * *

 

**Somewhere in the United States**

All his worrying had been for naught. The target had not been tipped off as he had feared after all. Apparently, she had been out of town taking care of her mother who had fallen ill.

From what he had been able to deduce, her mother was getting on in years and had never really been all that healthy anyway, at least not since her husband was killed in the line of duty during the Korean war. That was something K could understand, as he had taken care of his bedridden mother months prior to her death mere weeks before the birth of his son Michael, but all the sympathy in the world was not going to influence him in any way.

If he hadn’t deserted his post after learning his last target was a single mother with no family who would be able to take care of her child if something were to happen to her, then he sure as hell was not about to walk out on the job this time just because he could identify with the target.

From his room that had shrunk from being the size of a shoebox to that of a rat hole in the weeks he had been cooped up here, K knelt before the lone window that was hazy with grim and filth. Besides him, propped against the wall yellow with age and brown with years, possibly decades, worth of dirt was the window screen, which had been too easy to take out. Open on the bed behind him was the carrying case for the M-24. Everything else was packed and waiting for his hasty, but clean, retreat.

Squinting through the scope, he followed the target’s movements as she paced back and forth in her apartment across the street with the phone pressed to her ear. He was assuming she was on hold for she hasn’t said a word in the ten minutes she had been on the phone. She walked from the kitchen through the dining room and into the living room before turning and heading back. The barrel of the sniper rifle was steady. His finger hovered over the trigger, just itching to pull it. He had wasted too much time on this job already.

…Wait…

…Wait…

…Wait…

Taking a deep breath, he held it, counted to ten, and then slowly exhaled. Quietness washed over him. There was nothing. No emotion. No thought. No conscience. No guilt. Nothing.

It was time.

Through the scope, K watched as the target jerked to a halt in the middle of the dining room and then crumbled to the floor out of sight.

It would take an hour before someone realized that Mrs. Marianne Hockley was dead, but by then, the assassin for hire known simply as K would be on a flight to Japan.

 

* * *

 

**Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

Again. The target was at it again.

From the woods that stretched up behind the Usami residence all the way to the Ryugan Temple that was perched at the top of the hill at the head of a long steep set of stairs that had been cut into the hillside, Shiho lowered the binoculars and heaved a disgusted sigh.

Shiho was beginning to question why she had agreed to this assignment again.

Seriously, what was with this chick? Did she have some undiagnosed OCD or something? Honestly. She’d spend hours pulling weeds, tilling the soil, pruning the flowers, trimming hedges, and planting new flowers and then disappear into the house for a little while before returning to re-till the soil and pull more weeds that apparently only she could see. That was all this girl has been doing since she woke, which had been at the ass crack of dawn.

Actually, the sun hadn’t even been close to being up and Ms Ayaka Usami was out of bed. Weren’t teenagers supposed to sleep in until noon and stay out all night? Talk back to their parents? Be lazy slobs and juvenile delinquents? Hang out with people their parents disapproved of? Participate in underage drinking? Experiment with drugs? Smoke? Have sex with the next able body? Go to parties at their friends’ houses when the parental units decided to take a personal weekend? Take the car without asking? Join devil-worshipping cults? Dance naked under the moonlight? Weren’t teenagers supposed to be teenagers?

Ms Ayaka Usami was definitely an old woman at heart.

Shiho had to stop herself from banging her head against the nearest tree in agitation.

This had to be the most boring assignment she had ever had the privilege of being part of. Ms Ayaka Usami was a boring woman. Very.

Dull.

Mind numbing.

Tiresome.

Unexciting.

Monotonous.

Repetitive.

Whichever verb was used, it all amounted to the same definition. Uninteresting. As in stimulating no interest or enthusiasm.

Yawning, Shiho stretched her arms over her head. Sighing, she flopped onto her back against the warm grass. Setting the binoculars besides her, she folded her arms behind her head and crossing one leg over the other, let her eyes flutter closed.

Well, this chick wasn’t all bad. Boring was actually turning out to be a good thing. She could finally catch up on her sleep.

 

* * *

**III**

* * *

**  
**   


**Monday- Seguchi Residence - Tokyo Midtown Residence - Tokyo, Japan  
**

When her husband decided to come home to have lunch with her, Mika knew something was going on. He either usually forgot to eat because he was so busy or he grabbed something quick out of the vending machines in the commissary at the studio. It turned out she was right, not that she ever doubted it. She usually was. Her husband, it seemed, was going to be late getting home.

“Oh?”

Tohma, using his chopsticks, shoveled some rice into his mouth. “I have to go to Kyoto this evening. There‘s this band I was invited to check out, so I’m not sure-”

The ringing of his cellphone interrupted him.

Mika glanced over her shoulder at her husband’s sleek blackberry that was dancing across the sleek surface of the bar overlooking the stove and then back at her husband.

Picking his white linen napkin from his lap, Tohma dabbed at his mouth before setting it down on the table besides his plate. “Excuse me, dear,” he said to his wife before pushing away from the table.

“Of course,” Mika said with a nod. She watched her husband waltz towards his phone.

As the phone continued to buzz in his hand, its shrill ring filling the otherwise silence of the kitchen, Tohma frowned at what was displayed on the LCD screen. Private. There was only one thing he detested more than having his busy schedule interrupted with mindless drivel and that was receiving a call from someone who refused to be identified by caller ID. He had half a mind to press “ignore”, but decided against it. It could very well end up being from the very people he has been waiting to hear from.

Then again, it could be a telemarketer.

Either way, what was supposed to be a nice quiet lunch with his wife was ruined.

He answered the phone mid-ring. “Hello?”

“Yes. Hello. I’m looking for Mr. Tohma Seguchi.”

“Speaking.”

“Mr. Seguchi. Hello. This is Takashi Iba from DNA Diagnostic.”

“Ah! Mr. Iba. Hello, sir. Tell me you have some good news for me.” It was best to get right to the point instead of focusing on tedious pleasantries. He was a very busy man with very little time for mindless chitchat that he had no interest in.

“Yes, sir. We have the results of the paternity test you requested. In fact, they are in my hands as we speak.”

That was fast, Tohma thought in surprise, though his unchanging expression gave no hint to the excitement and pleasure flowing through him. Three working days. That was how long he was told it would usually take to receive the results. This meant normally, since blood samples were drawn on Friday evening, results should not have been known until at least Wednesday, but here it is Monday and the results were already known. Efficiency. That was what he liked.

“Excellent.”

Even though the DNA Diagnostic Center was a world-renowned institution with a reputation as being the best, this was a very serious matter involving members of his own family and he had to make sure that everything had gone smoothly and by the book and that nobody had taken any short cuts. There could be no screw-ups, no mistakes. He would tolerate nothing short of perfection.

“Do you trust the results?”

“Of course, as I performed the test myself.”

That surprised Tohma even more than having the results back several days earlier than expected. “Even better. Now, how soon can you have the results delivered?”

“It depends on how soon you want them.”

“As soon as possible.”

“In that case, they can be at your office within the hour. I will personally deliver them myself.”

“Excellent! I look forward to finally meeting you, Mr. Iba.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Well,” he said, ending the call, “that was unexpected.” Most welcome, but unanticipated still the same.

Mika had been listening to her husband’s end of the conversation and had some inkling as to what was going on, but she wanted to be certain that she was not just leaping to conclusions. “Tohma? What’s going on? Who was that?”

“That, my dear,” Tohma explained as his fingers flew over the keypad of his cellphone, “was Takashi Iba from the DNA Diagnostic Center and it appears as if…” He held the phone to his ear. “…there’s suddenly been a change of plans.”

She’d figured as much.

Mika glanced at the now cold food she had painstakingly prepared in preparation for a quiet meal with her husband. It was rare that they were able to synchronize their schedules so that they could eat together. Instead of going out like they normally would, she had actually decided to cook. It was something she rarely did. She was no Iron Chef, but she enjoyed cooking. Now it had all gone to waste.

“Yes, I do apologize, but something has come up,” Tohma was speaking softly into the phone as he strode out of the kitchen and down the hall out of sight.

“Guess it’ll be leftovers,” Mika announced unhappily, “and dinner for one,” she continued after hearing the distant sound of the front door opening and closing. She sighed.

 

* * *

 

**Black Dragon Compound - Kita-ku, Kyoto, Japan**

The dispute with Hong Kong had been settled rather quickly, for which he was extremely thankful. He had more important business matters to attend to, like dealing with the PSIA, without having to deal with the bunch of chimps that thought they could run Hong Kong. Actually, a group of chimps probably could do a better job.

According to the manifesto, the shipment in dispute had indeed arrived just as he had been claiming all along, albeit a bit behind schedule due to rough seas. In fact, the ship had only just reached port the night before, meaning, of course, that the container was still on board the ship and had yet to be unloaded. This was something that could have been easily confirmed, but apparently, it was just as he had suspected. Hong Kong had been trying to pull the wool over his eyes.

To say relations between the two were now strained would be putting it lightly, not that that was any big loss. It wasn’t as if they were his only customers, his most loyal, or his biggest spenders.

The PSIA, Public Safety Intelligence Agency, was breathing down his neck about alleged criminal activity they believed was taking place, but couldn‘t prove. It was quite amusing actually, like watching your rival fumbling around lost in a maze in the middle of a moonless night while he had a map and a flashlight.

They may not be able to prove anything, but they “knew”. Oh, yes they did. Years of experience as well as good ole fashioned common sense screamed that one did not become part of the Yakuza because one was a good businessman. Luckily, the DA’s office, as well as Grand Juries, need something a little more concrete than gut instincts. Otherwise, he would have been lynched long ago.

Apparently, the PSIA were starting to become impatient, or so says his source with the department. Not that they could be blamed. After all, spending millions of tax dollars in order to place him and his known associates under surveillance, wiretapping his phones, bugging his home, raiding his businesses--including those with no ties to organized crime--and interviewing supposed eyewitnesses, they have yet to turn up any leads. Since they had absolutely nothing, the PSIA have taken to harassing and intimidating his men into confessing or slipping up and even promising leniency if they were to cooperate and become a witness for the state. All that got them in the end, though, was slapped with another lawsuit for police brutality.

That pleased Kizou greatly. Why? Wouldn’t this cause the PSIA to become more determined to bring him down? Well, yes. Yes, it would, but it also would cause them to become sloppy. One little slipup was all it would take. One little crack in their otherwise perfect sting operation and his team of lawyers and attorneys would whip out their crowbars and pry it wide open and the PSIA would be left with nothing but their regret.

If that wasn’t bad enough, there’d been a surprise inspection the other day while he had been dealing with the Hong Kong mess. The Health Inspectors claimed all five of his restaurants, including the one within his luxury hotel downtown and the ones at his gambling and casino halls, had all failed. That was nothing short of a load of crap. He knew that every single one of his businesses, whether legitimate or not, was kept up to code and was so squeaky clean you could eat off the floor without fear of catching some sort of contagion. His mole within the department had inexplicably gone missing at about the same time. While his lieutenant was looking into the matter of the missing spy, he had his contingent of lawyers and attorneys looking into the so-called failed inspections.

Then there was a bunch of little upstarts trying to stir things up. That wasn’t something he was worried about though. It could be easily dealt with.

What could be a problem was the territorial dispute between the Cyclones and the E Street Gang. They were bitter rivals. Have been since their formations. There was no rhyme or reason for their contention for one another. It wasn’t light banter meant to rile each other up before the big game. This wasn’t a friendly competition to see who would come up on top this year. Oh, no. Theirs was a pure, unadulterated hatred for one another. The Cyclones detested the E Street Gang purely because they existed and vice versa. The territory in dispute was contested just because. He wasn’t about to take sides because both groups worked for him and the territory they were fighting over--just because they could--in actuality belonged to him. There were no claims to be had. Besides, he was tired of dealing with their childish antics.

_“They have the option of getting their shit in order,”_ he’d told his inner circle at the last meeting.

_“Or?”_ someone had asked.

_“Or nothing. They get their shit together or there’s not going to be any shit to get together.”_

Kizou scrubbed his hands over his face, his stubble grazing against his palms.

At a knock, Kizou called for whoever it was--most likely Narata--to enter.

“Sir?”

Kizou dropped his hand and peered down the length of his body towards the open bedroom door. Narata stood there looking as if he had been up for hours. He wasn’t sure if his aide had actually been up for that long--God only knows why--or if Narata was just a morning person. It actually reminded him of Shuichi. The boy could get three hours of sleep and yet would be as hyperactive and high as a kite. What he would give to be able to bottle that. It would make him a fortune. He’d come close, but the uppers were no substitution for the actual thing. “Yeah?”

“Phone. It’s Tohma Seguchi.”

All vestiges of sleep vanished. Now wide-awake, Kizou flung back the sheet and practically leapt out of bed, tugging on a black silk kimono as he made his way to his office like a man possessed.

Was this it?

He pushed open the door of his office, not evening registering the resounding thud as it slammed against the wall. “Mr. Seguchi,” he panted into the phone. That was when he realized just how out of breath he was.

“How soon can you be in Tokyo?” Tohma asked without any preamble.

Kizou felt his heart skip a beat or three. His mouth went dry. Weak kneed, he dropped like a lead balloon into the chair that was fortunately behind him otherwise he would have ended up on the floor. How undignified that would have been. “Is it…?”

“The results of the paternity test will be arriving in my office within the next hour.”

This was it.  This was it.  This was freaking it!  “I…”  For once, he was at a loss as what to say.  Was it possible to be excited and nervous at the same time?  He could not remember a time when he was more nervous then he was at that moment.  It felt as if elephants were doing the samba in his stomach.  Not a pleasant feeling.  However, the reasoning behind the build up of nerves was.

Kizou shook himself. Why was he so nervous? There was no reason to be. The truth was on his side.

What truth would that be? asked a nagging voice in the back of his mind.

The truth was grinning at him from besides the last family photo taken before his little brother was killed. The side-by-side comparison was not only eerie with how similar little Takanori’s appearance was to his late brother, but it was unmistakable. Unless there was some sort of family secret that he has yet to be privy to, then it was undeniable. There was no possible way that Taki Aizawa was the biological father to Takanori Uesugi.

A surge of pride washed over him. His back was straighter, shoulders back, head held high.

He blinked aside the mysterious sting in his eyes.

After clearing his throat of an equally mysterious lump, Kizou said, “I have to make a few phone calls and shuffle some things around, but I can be there in a few hours.” His voice came out strong. Good.

“See you then.”

With a shaking hand, Kizou replaced the receiver in its cradle and collapsed back into his chair.

“Sir?”

Kizou started at the voice. Pushing himself from the chair, he addressed Narata who was standing on the other side of the desk, “See what you can do about clearing my schedule for the rest of the day. I need to go to Tokyo.”

“Yes, sir,” Narata said promptly. He watched his boss as he strode out of the office and vanished down the hall in the direction of his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Who was the one more likely to be suffering from some sort of psychosis? The one running through the house screaming at the top of his lungs or the one who allowed said party to move back into the house. Tough call.

As much as he may complain--okay, more like bitch…incessantly--about the migraine inducing rituals that he was subjected to on a daily basis, waking up in the morning to a bed that had gone cold and a house quieter than a graveyard at midnight was what Hell must be like. At times, though, the urge to take a nap in a gas oven or bang his head against railroad tracks while a train whizzed by was overwhelming. It was something he never wanted to experience again. Not ever again.

However, it didn’t stop him from having momentary regrets. It was his right as a father of a two-year-old and husband to a pop star. He could regret if he wanted.

Trying his damnedest to ignore the chaos going on outside his office, Eiri returned his attention to the manuscript in his hands.

The working title was Killer Asylum.

Under the pseudonym Eiri Yuki, he’d written fourteen novels, three short stories and even the script for the movie based on his first novel, The Decision.

All of his published work, such as The Decision, were stories about faith, love, tragedy and or fate. It’s what was popular when he first started out as a serious writer. Whether they were “romantic suspense” or “science fiction police procedurals with an emphasis on crime solving but with an overall reoccurring theme of developing a relationship between the couple”, these types of stories were what sold. It was what was in demand. Therefore, it was what all the publishers were looking for. Were you the next Nicholas Spark or Nora Roberts?

However, those types of stories were not his forte nor were they his passion. He preferred to delve into the criminal mind, write about the why they do what they do and how can they be stopped from doing it again. Dark. Gory. Gothic. Where villains were villains, evil and sadistic and who frighten you into keeping the light on at night. Where the heroes and heroines were brave and resourceful and, like their reality counterparts, sometimes did not get their man. There might even be a little romance to little the mood at times, but it definitely would not be the main focus.

Killer Asylum was that type of story. It also happened to be the first manuscript he’d been satisfied enough with to send out to various publishing companies. He’d been hoping someone would consider it for publication. Unfortunately, there had been very little interest and the demand had just not been there.

“A well written piece. It’s obvious you have talent. Unfortunately…”

There was the “but” of it all. There was always a “but”.

“…we are not seeking submissions in this genre at this time.”

It was turned down repeatedly. It left him so dejected that one point, he‘d actually considered giving up.

Instead, he’d put his darker side that thought in the realm of reality where things did not always end in happily ever after to delve into the light side where knights on white steeds slew evil stepmothers and rode off into the sunset with the fair maiden.

Here he was an international bestselling author. It wasn’t what he’d wanted when he started out as a writer, but figured it wouldn’t hurt either. What he hadn’t counted on, though, was finding success as a romance writer. It was the very genre he’d always thought of as an irrational foray into the imaginative imaginations of homemakers. He wasn’t sure if it technically fulfilled the definition of what irony was, but it felt ironic.

For God’s sake, he was a romance writer! He did not have a romantic bone in his body. All one had to do was ask Shuichi for confirmation.

Eiri had no idea why he was so damn successful as a romance writer when, nine out of ten times, his stories had more gore and death than a war movie and usually didn’t have that “and they happily ever after” type of ending romance novels were supposed to have. It seems as he hadn’t been able to completely suppress his “darker side” completely after all.

Whatever.

But one good thing came from it: he had developed the Midas touch, or so claims his publishers and since everything turned to gold, maybe it was time to broaden the horizon, go back to his roots.

He’d spoken with his agent, Kanna Mizuki, about doing just that. She immediately jumped on board. Why not? It certainly could not hurt. It would expand his readership. She ran the idea by his publishers, but they had not been as sure or as eager, but seeing he was who he was, they were willing to give him a chance. Now all he had to do was decide whether to use his given name or use a different pseudonym.

A squeal tore his attention from his manuscript to the closed door of his study and brought a smile to his lips.

He returned to the pages in front of him.

_“Gas,” said Briggs. “Had to be gas…”_

_“Bullshit!” roared Turner. “That was no goddamn gas explosion. You think I don’t know plastic when I fuckin’ hear it?”_

_He stopped yelling and turned pale._

_There was no way in hell those boys could have blown themselves up. No fuckin’ way in hell._

_His mind was still in turmoil from the feedback and the explosion. They’d blown the plug with no problem. Hadn’t they? Of course they had. He precisely remembered them doing so. Then Long had gone up the hole. Then…_ (1)

The--relative--quietness that had fallen over the household suddenly--baka and baka junior had probably decided it time for a snack break…again--was shattered by the ringing of the phone.

“Eiri?” came the shout.

Eiri sighed. “Yeah,” he called back. Marking his place, he set the manuscript--that he apparently was never going to get through in this lifetime--aside and reached behind him for the phone. “Hello?”

“Eiri-kun?”

Eiri tensed. Immediately, his guard was up. “Are they in?”

“Within the hour,” Tohma said.

Despite the fact that he was speaking to his brother-in-law on the telephone, Eiri began nodding. Suddenly, he was nervous and he wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t as if it affected him in any way. No matter what the results ended up being, whether Taki Aizawa fathered little Takanori--he shuddered at the thought--or if it was, by some miracle, Rique Kizou, little Takanori was his son, maybe not by blood, but certainly by right of adoption and he had absolutely no plans of that ever changing. No little piece of paper was going to convince him differently. Shuichi has been telling him repeatedly that was the case and Eiri intended to hold his husband to that.

“We’ll be there.” Oh, most assuredly, if for nothing more than to tell whoever the father turned out to be that he had no plans of going anywhere.

 

* * *

 

**Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

“Really? That was fast.”

From the dining table where he was reading the paper, Ryuichi turned around as much as he could without having to stand up and physically straddle the chair. In the kitchen, Tatsuha was speaking on the cordless phone. Where he would be pacing back and forth, Tatsuha remained fixed to a single spot. With his free arm--the hand not holding the phone to his ear--gripping his hip, Tatsuha was leaning back against the counter. His legs were stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other.

“The president himself, huh? That’s some preferential treatment.”

Ryuichi frowned. Just who was Tatsuha speaking with?

“Blackmail. Of course!”

It wasn’t so odd--anymore at least--that his mind would make an automatic leap from “blackmail” to “Tohma”, but having grown up with the man, he’d long ago become accustomed to how the wheels and cogs in Tohma’s brain moved and how his brain functioned. It was almost as if Tohma was operating on a completely different wavelength then the rest of humanity. When it came to Tohma, nothing that man did could surprise him any longer. Tohma Seguchi would do whatever it took to protect those he cared about. Anything. While many people claim they would do the same, Tohma actually made good on his threats and promises. It was what made even the Yakuza afraid to mess with him.

“Oh? Then what would you call it?”

It had to be Tohma. Who else could blackmail someone into doing something without actually coming right out and blackmailing them?

Nobody messed with Tohma Seguchi. Well, nobody messed with him and lived to tell the tale.

Tatsuha threw his back and laughed.

Ryuichi had always been of a mind that this trait his long time friend harbored would eventually backfire, but so far, it has done no such thing. In fact, it was what has propelled Tohma forward, kept him from giving up even when the odds were against him.

Some people were given a helping hand, but others, like Tohma, had to help themselves and that was exactly what Tohma did.

The more Tohma’s empire grew, the more power he had at his disposal, which in turn helped to grow his empire. It was a never-ending loop. Ryuichi had reminded his best friend, on more than one occasion, that even the Roman Empire fell.

That was where Tohma’s ingenious cunning came in.

“I can take care of my own,” was what Tohma once told him.

As Shuichi was under the protection of Tohma Seguchi, nobody would be able to touch either Shuichi or little Takanori. And if the outcome of the paternity test revealed that Taki Aizawa was not the biological father of little Takanori, it would undoubtedly mean an alliance between Tohma and the Black Dragons--for there was only one other person who could be the father, or at least according to Shuichi. In turn, this would make them and their leader, Rique Kizou, nearly untouchable. No one was going to want to mess with the only son and heir of the leader of the Black Dragons if it meant going up against Tohma Seguchi. Except for the PSIA, but that was another matter--but knowing Tohma, he probably had connections within the police department he could use.

Tatsuha turned sober suddenly. “You think they’ll show up?”

The Aizawas. That had to be who Tatsuha was speaking of now. This could not be easy on the elderly couple. They already lost their only son and now it seems as if they might be losing their grandson.

Turning back around, Ryuichi folded the newspaper and set it aside. Pushing up out of the chair, he walked into the kitchen.

Tatsuha looked up at him as he entered, smiled briefly, and then returned his attention back to the phone. “Yeah,” Tatsuha was saying. “We’ll be there.” He looked up and met Ryuichi’s light brown eyes.

Ryuichi nodded. Of course they’ll be there. They were family after all and family always supported one another.

 

* * *

 

**NG Productions - Executives Offices - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Tohma had barely sat down when his phone on his desk buzzed.

“Mr. Seguchi,” spoke the soft female voice over the intercom.

“Yes, Nana?”

Nanako Horie was his new secretary. Fresh out of college. She took over for Hairi who retired last month.

“I just received a call from the lobby, sir. It seems there’s a Mr. Takashi Iba here to see you?”

Tohma was struck momentarily dumbstruck. “Ah, yes.” That certainly was fast. These people at DNA Diagnostic did not do anything half cocked. “I was expecting him. Have them send him up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Nana?”

“Sir?”

“Send him in immediately when he arrives.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tohma sat back, his long, slender fingers steepled before him.

His gaze wandered to the black phone sitting on his desk. There was one more call he had to make and it might turn up to be the hardest one yet.

 

* * *

 

A sharp, but brief rap on the office door stirred him from his contemplations. His manicured nails ceased their drilling on the arms of the chairs. Dropping his other hand from where it was absently fondling his chin, Tohma spun the chair away from the amazing view of Tokyo and called out sharply, “Yes?”

The door swung open silently and a familiar burgundy head popped in. “Sir? Mr. Iba is here to see you?” It was more question than statement. Fear laced her otherwise steady voice. Dark eyes were wide with that same fright. In all, she appeared as if expecting a vicious bulldog to jump out at her from some shadow-hidden corner only she could see and attack her.

Should he feel pity towards this poor, young girl? Probably. After all, he did have a tendency to snap at her quite often. It was a wonder she’d stayed on for as long as she had. It was not as if she were incompetent. Far from it. She was very knowledgeable. And not just about secretarial duties either, but about the music business as well. He had to wonder if she had aspirations of eventually taking over the company from him one day.

He respected her far more than he did anyone else. Mostly because, even though she seemed a little on edge with his ever changing moods, she dealt with his almost OCD behavior professionally. She took everything in stride.

Eager to please and eager to learn, she knew when to keep her mouth shut--just smile and nod--and also when he needed to be reigned in.

What would he do without her?

“Ah! Yes. Show him in please, Nana.”

A look of relief replaced the tension within her. “Yes, sir,” she said with a smile.

Nana disappeared from view briefly. The door swung shut behind her, muffing her already soft voice. Not long after, a man swept into the office with an air of confidence and authority about him. Behind him, Nana reappeared.

“That’ll be all for now, Nana, thank you, but I’m expecting Mr. Shindou, Mr. Sakuma, Mr. Kizou and my brothers-in-law. Show them in when they arrive.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a nod. She retreated, shutting the door behind her.

Tohma swung his gaze to the man standing before him.

Takashi Iba.

Tohma pushed the chair away from the desk and stood up. “Mr. Iba.” He inclined his head in greeting. “Welcome.”

With a black briefcase clutched in his right hand, Takashi Iba returned his greeting with a deep bow of his own. “Mr. Seguchi.”

Tohma took the opportunity to study him.

It was difficult to judge the age of the president of DNA Diagnostic. Hair as dark as raven’s feathers was slicked back from a high forehead and pulled into a neat ponytail at the nape of the neck. With the absence of any visible wrinkles and with dark chocolate eyes, sharp and alert, that seemed to be studying him in turn, Tohma guessed him to be at least forty. But the gray flecks within the otherwise black hair had him second-guessing himself. Either Takashi Iba looked young for his age or he was going prematurely gray.

Whichever it was, Takashi Iba was dressed professionally in a navy blue three-piece suit. Under the vest was a light dusty rose button down shirt. Not many men could wear pink and get away with it--except for Shuichi and Eri, but they were a different story all together.

“Please,” Tohma indicated the chairs before the man. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Unbuttoning his suit jacket with one hand, Takashi sat down in one of the two chairs indicated.

Tohma settled back into his seat, folding his hands neatly on top of the desk.

Setting the briefcase onto his lap, Takashi Iba rolled both set of dials into their proper 3-sequence alignment. Once he had it, the two latches securing the briefcase closed, sprang up. Lifting open the briefcase, he reached inside for the only contents: a large business sized envelope with the logo and address of the DNA Diagnostic Center stamped into the upper left hand corner.

“Those are the results?” Tohma inquired.

“Yes, sir, they are.”

Tohma reached out for them, which Takashi Iba gladly handed over.

Fighting the urge to tear open the envelope as if he were a child with an expectation of discovering cash inside of a birthday card, Tohma carefully slit open the top of the envelope with an antique silver letter open he always kept on his desk. It’d been a gift from his now deceased grandmother. He pulled out a single sheet of paper. Placing the envelope aside, his malachite green eyes scanned the document.

Takashi Iba fiddled nervously in the chair as the silence grew.

“Are you one-hundred percent sure about these?” came the question. Tohma glanced at the other man over the paper.

It was a sheet of paper, only a single sheet of paper that could be bought at any drug store or office store or large department store in any country on the planet and yet it was suddenly transformed into something much more than that with the addition of the black text.

Takashi Iba nodded. “Yes, sir. I am.” Tohma Seguchi’s expression gave nothing away. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Was he happy with the results of the paternity test or not? It was like trying to get the time of day from the Mona Lisa.

Tohma sat back with a barely audible sigh. Either way, someone was going to be going home unhappy.

His gaze traveled back to the phone. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Iba, there’s a phone call I have to make.”

“Of course.” Takashi Iba stood with briefcase in hand, bowed, and exited the office.

Once the door was shut, Tohma sat forward. His hand hesitated briefly over the phone.

This was not going to be easy.

 

**…To Be Continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Excerpt from "Killer Asylum", a novel written by David R. Williams (who just happens to be my dad and which you can purchase from Amazon if you’re interested).


	8. We Gather Together To Discuss Miracles

**Chapter 8: We Gather Together To Discuss Miracles**

**Aizawa Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

The phone was ringing as Oharu Aizawa stepped into the house. Setting down her grocery bags, she stepped out of her shoes and into house slippers before padding softly, and without hurry, to the extension on the sideboard sitting along the wall opposite the front door. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Aizawa?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Tohma Seguchi.”

Suddenly her heart was racing. It was making it difficult to catch her breath. “Oh! Yes! Yes! Hello, Mr. Seguchi. What can I do for you?” she asked with false cheerfulness. It sounded forced even to her.

There was a pause and then, “I wanted to let you know that the results of the paternity test have arrived.”

Oharu was an avid reader and had read more than once about characters that suddenly “went still” when caught unawares, but she never thought she would experience something similar and here it had happened twice. First when she learned of her only child’s death and now.

She forgot how to breathe. Her pulse started racing. She could feel the rapid thumping of her heart in her chest. Her hold on the phone tightened; her grip slippery with the onset of sweat.

“Is that right?” she stuttered in a breathy whisper.

She didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

She didn’t want to know what the outcome of the paternity test was.

She didn’t care.

She didn’t.

She didn’t.

Her throat closed around a mysterious lump.

Please don‘t say it, she chanted.

A stray tear rolled down her cheek.

There was another pause. “Mrs. Aizawa…Oharu.” Tohma spoke hesitatingly. “I think you should sit down.”

That was all that needed to be said. A sob rose up within her and escaped into the silence of the foyer before she could stop it. Her vision blurred behind a veil of tears. She started shaking her head in denial and couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t. If she did, it would be true and she did not want it to be true. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. She refused to believe it. She wouldn’t believe it.

“I am so sorry,” were the soft words spoken into her ear.

When her legs gave out, she staggered backwards and hit the wall. It knocked another sob out of her. The phone tumbled out of her hands and clattered to the floor, but she didn’t notice. Nor did she hear the voice calling out to her. She slid down the wall and collapsed into a heap onto the floor, sobbing quietly.

 

* * *

 

**En Route to NG Productions - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

“Why’d you assume Aizawa was Takanori’s biological father?”

With a heavy sigh, Shuichi leaned his elbow on the passenger side door, resting his chin in his cupped hand and stared out the window at the city speeding by in a blur of color.

Why was Eiri bringing this up yet again? Hadn’t they been over this enough? And what did it matter anyway? What’s done was done. Nothing could be done about it.

“Why wasn’t what’s-his-name ever an option?”

Shuichi rolled his eyes.

As if they hadn’t just seen “what’s-his-name”--otherwise known as Rique Kizou--the other day. Kizou and Eiri had even had an amicable conversation and much to his delight, Kizou and little Takanori seemed to hit it off, so Eiri pretending he could not remember what “what’s-his-name‘s” name is was not going to work.

Acting was not one of Eiri’s strong suit. Pretending he didn’t “know nothing about nothing” was clearly a ploy to remain disconnected from a situation he was emotionally attached to. Besides, they both knew that Eiri knew who and what Kizou was--or more accurately, who the man had been. It was because Eiri abhorred the idea, as well as the thought of, someone other than him touching what belonged to him that Eiri tried to act as if Kizou did not exist. He was such a possessive git.

Some did not care for the thought of “belonging” to another person. The idea that they could be claimed as if they were the last slice of pizza angered and disgusted them. They argued that they were not a thing to be bought, sold, and tossed aside whenever their owner grew tired of them. They were living, breathing human beings with thoughts, emotions and feelings all their own.

Shuichi was not one of those people.  All he has ever wanted was a place to which he could belong, where he did not have to hide or pretend to be something he wasn’t or be ashamed of what and who he was or wasn’t.  He’d wanted someone who could love him for whom and what he was instead of what and who that person wanted him to be.  He found all that and more in Eiri.  Eiri did not think of him as the “freak”.  To Eiri, he was beautiful.  A bit on the rambunctious side, but perfect.  Eiri loved him and he loved Eiri, possessive streak and all.

Though Eiri may deny it, the man had a habit of memorizing the names and faces of people who he felt were a threat to him and his claim, which was just about everyone in the free world. At social gatherings, Eiri kept to his side as if they were crazy glued together, his golden eyes scanning the vicinity for potential threats. Eiri would even go so far as to growl at someone who was as presumptuous as to glance at him.

Eiri really was a character, but…

Shuichi slid a glance at his husband behind the wheel, silently waiting for an answer.

…he wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he were truly loved, as if he truly had a place where he belonged. It was a nice feeling.

“You know why,” he answered softly, turning back to gaze out the window.

Honestly, he was sick of talking about it and refused to discuss it any longer. All it did was cause him to feel worse than he already did and he already felt like complete and utter crap. The whole situation was a total mess. Though, really, he had nobody to blame but himself.

Like most teenagers, he’d lived his life as if he knew all the secrets of the universe. He used to believe that nothing and nobody could touch him because everything happened to the other guy and not him, and if it did then…Oh, well. _C’est la vie._ That’s life. Besides, like Tatsuha said when the older man confronted him three years ago, he had been suicidal at the time. Back then, he’d believed that nobody loved him. That nobody cared about him and that nobody would miss him when he was gone. He’d been, after all, a freak and everybody knew that freaks were a waste of space and all of humanity would be better off it they were annihilated from the face of the planet.

But all that changed in an instant.

Meeting Eiri that night in the park changed his life. If it wasn’t for Eiri, he would even now be a pile of ash and bone in some third rate urn buried in the back of some coroner’s basement, if he was lucky, but his son was definitely the best thing that ever happened to him.

There was one regret he had in regards to his son and that was his naivety.

 

* * *

 

Jumping to conclusions like they had--assuming that Aizawa was the biological father of little Takanori, assuming that Kizou could not have children, it was now all coming back to bite them on the ass. It did not matter what the results of the DNA paternity test turn out to be because either way someone was in for a major disappointment. The Aizawas could very well lose a grandchild--the only link to the son they lost--or Kizou could lose a child. Eiri’s link to little Takanori was assured no matter what. He could not even begin to imagine what life was like on the other side of the fence.

He should have insisted they wait until they knew for certain before naming Aizawa the father. He should have…He didn’t know what else he should have insisted on, what he could have done differently to avoid being in the spot they were now, but he should have done more, something he could have done differently.

The public already believed, thanks to Tohma, that Shuichi and Aizawa were dating prior to the other man’s death--lie or not, he felt nauseous at the thought--but what if Kizou turned out to be little Takanori’s biological father instead? Then what? What possible scenario could Tohma pull out of his ass to explain the sudden turn of events?

This was one giant mess.

 

* * *

 

“Where we going Mama?”

With the introduction of his son’s inquisitive voice into the heavy silence, Shuichi felt his gloomy mood lift.

Turning around as much as the seatbelt would allow, Shuichi smiled at his two-year-old son who was strapped into his booster seat in the middle of the backseat.

That had him thinking. With one child already and two more on the way--that only they and Shuichi’s doctors knew about presently--what would they do if they were to have another child? He wasn’t even sure if Eiri wanted more children. Would three be enough? But what if, for argument’s sake, they did have another child? Then what? He would gladly give up his studio if the space were needed. But…

A sly grin spread slowly across his face. “You’d have to give up your precious Mercedes,” he whispered more to himself than to his partner.

Eiri blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

Shuichi grinned at the man. “If we have more children. You are going to have to exchange your Mercedes for a family van.”

Eiri blanched at the thought.

Shuichi laughed out loud at the expression of horror.

“Mama,” demanded the angry little voice from the backseat. “Where we going?”

Smothering his laughter, but still grinning like a madman, Shuichi regarded his son, “We’re going to the studio again.”

After swallowing the dread at the idea of giving up his precious baby, and he wasn’t referring to his son, Eiri glanced at his son’s reflection in the rear view mirror for brief moments at a time.

“Remember?” Shuichi was saying. “We were there the other day and you played with that man who bought you pop with the marble in it?”

Eiri sneered at the memory. Yes. Give an already hyper two-year-old sugar. Brilliant idea.

Beaming, little Takanori nodded enthusiastically and starting dancing around in his seat.

Shuichi laughed at his son’s antics.

Eiri shook his head in amusement. Guess he should just feel happy that this transition between Aizawa and Kizou was going so smoothly, but he could not suppress the little stirrings of jealousy.

Little Takanori did remember that man. He’d been so nice! They’d played hide-and-seek and tag! He wanted to play with him again! He was really fun! Not as much fun as playing with Mama. Nobody was as fun as Mama. Mama was the bestest ever! Maybe that man would buy him another drink! Daddy did not like him having that drink, but it was so yummy and the bubbles had tickled his nose. Maybe Mama could talk to daddy again into letting him have it. And maybe he could play with the man longer this time and they wouldn’t have to worry about Daddy being angry that they were making too much noise in public because Mama would be there and would tell Daddy to hush just like he did last time. He couldn’t wait!

 

* * *

 

**NG Productions - Executive Offices - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

It did not take long for them to arrive at the tall steel and glass building that housed the NG Production record company.

Eiri pulled around back to where the entrance to the underground parking garage was located. At the gate, he took the employee key card Shuichi handed him, and held it up to the scanner. A light blinked green and the barrier rose. He handed the key card back to Shuichi, who shoved it back into an inner pocket in his bag, and started forward slowly. Shuichi guided him to the reserved parking for the artists on the second level near the elevators. Considering Shuichi’s current state, Tohma had given him permission to park in one of the handicapped spots.

They piled out of the car--Shuichi shouldering his messenger bag, Eiri pocketing his keys, wallet and cellphone. As soon as their son was free of his confining car seat and his sneakered feet hit the ground, he was off racing towards the elevators, Shuichi at his heels. Eiri locked the set the car alarm and followed.

Little Takanori rose up on his tippy toes and pressed the call button. Proud of himself, he beamed up at his parents as they trooped up behind him. “I pushed-ed it Mama!”

Shuichi pouted. “But I wanted to do it,” he whined, crossing his arms over his chest.

Little Takanori strode up to his mama and patted his leg. “You can press it next time.” He said this was a serious expression on his face.

Eiri chuckled lightly.

The elevator arrived just then with a ping that resounded in the silence of the underground parking garage. Moments later, the doors slid open.

“Alright. Let’s go,” Eiri announced. Grabbing his son’s hand, he followed his husband onto the elevator car. He pressed the button for Tohma’s floor and watched the doors slide shut.

 

* * *

 

With their son between them, swinging from their hands and squealing with a set of lungs that rivaled those of his mother‘s, the three of them stepped out of the elevator and into a plush, but silent hall.

There were no other doors along the passageway--or at least, there were none that could be seen--other than the single door at the end, but knowing Tohma Seguchi as they both did, neither would be at all surprised if there was a concealed door, or two. In fact, Shuichi was sure there was one if he were to believe the rumors.

Shuichi, Eiri and their son made their way down the hall, their footfalls muffled by the carpet under their feet.

On either side of them, the walls were lined with plagues--awards, and platinum and gold albums, including one for Bad Luck‘s debut album Gravity--and autographed photos of the various artists signed onto the NG label.

Shuichi could not get over how many there were! In the short time since the fledgling record company was founded, less than three years ago, NG Productions has become one of the top record companies in all of Japan.

The hallway ahead of them opened up into a small foyer-like space that was filled with lush exotic and native plants, expensive antique vases and intricately carved wood furniture.

Eiri snorted. It was just like Tohma to flaunt his wealth. That man does nothing subtly.

When he felt his son’s little hand slip free of his, Eiri stopped and glanced down at the two year old sharply, his heart harming in sudden fear, but he needn’t have worried. His son was currently in the process of trying to scale Shuichi as if he were Mount Fuji.

“Up Mama,” little Takanori declared. “Up Mama. Up!”

Eiri frowned at his husband as the younger man squatted down. “Shu,” he warned as his husband lifted their son up into his arms.

Shuichi shushed his husband. There was nothing wrong with him giving his son a little attention. Besides, he was only twelve weeks along. It wasn’t as if he was so big that doing so would cause any sort of harm to him or the twins. Eiri was such a worrywart.

“Shuichi.”

Ignoring him, Shuichi turned with a flourish and marched off down the hall.

Eiri gazed after him. “Damn brat,” he mumbled.

“Heard that,” Shuichi called over his shoulder.

Eiri rolled his eyes.

“Saw that.”

Eiri scrubbed his hands over his face. God help him. It’s started. Stupid pregnancy hormones. Dropping his hands, the sigh he started to expel choked off when he met a pair of golden eyes staring at him over Shuichi’s shoulder. Was it him or did he son look angry? Great. This was all he needed. A mini-Shuichi.

Shaking the shudder that raced down his spin off, he hurried after them both.

 

* * *

 

Eiri caught up to them at the executive office of the company president. Reaching around his husband for the door, he gave the doorknob a twist, pushed the door open and stepped back. He ushered his husband and son into the office with a wave of his hand, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt he was feeling for making his husband angry with him, which was ridiculous because he didn’t do anything to cause Shuichi to become angry with him.

Honestly, dealing with Shuichi and his constantly changing moods--whether he was pregnant or not--was like being on a roller coaster ride. It was enough to give one whiplash.

Shuichi stepped over the threshold and paused. Turning towards his husband, he rose up on his tippy toes--holding his son steady on his hip with a hand on the toddler’s back--and pressed his lips to Eiri’s cheek in a chaste kiss. He giggled at the stunned expression on Eiri’s face.

Little Takanori, wanting to kiss his daddy too, leaned forward--causing Shuichi to act fast otherwise he would have ended up dropping his son--and pressed his open mouth to Eiri’s cheek like he‘d seen his mama do. Then he spun around and grinned at his mama who chuckled lightly.

“Come on. Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Little Takanori giggled as Shuichi bounced him lightly on his hip. Still smiling, he stepped into the office to greet the young woman sitting behind the desk in the outer office, leaving Eiri stunned.

He really did not understand Shuichi. Not even a little bit. Boy should come with a manual, he thought.

“Hello Nanako.”

Shuichi‘s voice stirred him from his stupor. Shaking himself, he followed Shuichi into the office and nodded at his brother-in-law’s new--not to mention extremely young--secretary.

“Mr. Shindou. Mr. Uesugi. Hello,” Nana greeted warmly.

Shuichi shifted his son in his arms. Little Takanori was definitely not a lightweight. His arms were already beginning to ache.

“Hello there,” Nana smiled at little Takanori. Her voice had gone up several octaves. It was a typical adult slip when speaking to a child.

Little Takanori stared at her silently for a moment before replying shyly, “Hi.” After which, the two year old wrapped his arms around Shuichi’s neck and buried his face in Shuichi’s shoulder.

Definitely did not get that from Shuichi, Eiri thought. Shuichi was anything but shy. He chuckled deeply.

Shuichi tossed him a glance over his shoulder. The look said everything.

Suddenly it was a lot warmer in the office.

Clearing his throat, Eiri stepped forward, wrapped an arm possessively around Shuichi’s waist and prodded the cooing woman. “Tohma is…?”

“Expecting you,” Nana replied. “Go right in.”

“Thank you,” Shuichi grinned.

Eiri nodded.

They skirted the secretary’s desk towards the door that lead into Tohma’s office. Eiri rounded his husband and reached for the doorknob. He gave it a sharp twist, pushed open the door and stepped inside.

An explosion of sound greeted them.

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

**  
**   


**An Hour Later - Executive Offices - NG Productions - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan  
**

Eiri’s patience was waning. Quickly. Not as if he had any to spare in the first place. He’d always been a little on the impatient side. There’d always been a bit of an anger issue as well. But, really, didn’t one go hand in hand with the other anyway? He wasn’t certain if that was the case, but it was for him, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that the longer they dawdled here like a bunch of useless lumps, the thinner his patience became, the more irritated he was and the closer he was coming to snapping.

For what seemed like the millionth time in only the last five seconds, Eiri glanced at the clock on the wall. How much longer where they going to wait? He was going stir crazy. No, scratch that. He was slowly losing his mind. If he would have known that they would have to wait for Kizou to arrive, he would not have rushed over here so damn quickly. He could have remained back at home working on his manuscript for a little while longer. What an absolute waste of time this was.

He frowned at the clock. The damn contraption was broken. It had to be. There was no other explanation. Otherwise, how else would you explain the fact that every time he peered at it, it showed the same time? It was a conspiracy. He swore it was. It wasn’t enough that his own husband and child were trying to slowly drive him insane, but now his brother-in-law was in on it too. Perfect.

A pair of smiling emerald green eyes met his over the desk. He scowled back. “What?” he snapped.

“Nervous, Eiri-kun?” Tohma inquired, leaning forward and resting his chin on his laced fingers.

“No,” he answered curtly.

Tohma regarded him with a cocked eyebrow--perfectly manicured of course.

Eiri stilled his bouncing knee, grumbling about stupid, nosey brother-in-laws.

Ignoring the amused look on his brother-in-law’s face and that damnedable twinkle in his eyes that said he clearly thought he was an omnipotent being, Eiri glanced over his shoulder at the mayhem that was ensuing behind him.

Other than Tohma, who was sitting behind his desk like a king on his throne overlooking his subjects, Shuichi and little Takanori, there was also Ryuichi and Tatsuha. It was quite the surprise to realize that his brother and his brother-in-law--or would that be father-in law?--had been invited to the big reveal.

He wasn’t angry that Tohma would go behind his back and inform others besides those not directly involved. Maybe a bit miffed that it was done without his knowledge or consent, but he wasn‘t mad. After all, Tatsuha and Ryuichi have a right to know just as much as he and Shuichi. This affected them as well, but this was a private moment. Family or not, there were some things that did not require an audience. If they’d wanted spectators, they would have agreed to go on one of the dozens of talk shows and nightly news programs that have had their phone ringing off the hook all goddamn weekend.

“Here.”

At a small sitting area, his son was kneeling at a long rectangular glass coffee table coloring with his uncle Ryuichi--or was that Grandfather?--and Uncle Tatsuha in a rather large coloring book amidst a sea of crayons, markers and colored pencils. A two year old and an expensive leather sofa. Not a good mix. Tohma did not seem overtly concerned though, so who was he to care? Not his furniture. Not his problem.

The coloring book was a clown coloring book thank you very much. Uncle Tohma bought it just for him.

_“For my favorite nephew,”_ Tohma’d said when he’d handed the present to the toddler.

_“You’re only nephew,”_ Eiri reminded him.

The kid was so spoiled. It didn’t come as any surprise, though, what with little Takanori being the only child in the family. So far, Eiri added. Not only were he and Shuichi expecting twins in a measly twenty-eight weeks--he couldn’t decide whether to strut around with his head held high and his chest out as of he were a peacock trying to impress his potential mate or strap himself in a straitjacket and confined to a padded cell--but Maiko was due to deliver a healthy baby boy in just over a month--by all that was holy was it only a month away?--and Tohma and Mika were actively trying to have a baby.

His older sister and her husband have been trying for years to start their own family, but with little success.

At one point Mika believed she was pregnant, or so said the home pregnancy test she took, but her OB/GYN a couple of weeks later claimed she wasn’t. False positive was what they called it. Had that really been the case though? Eiri had to wonder about that.

From the copious amounts of research he’d done when he found out the boy he was beginning to fall in love with was pregnant, he’d learned that it’s quite common for pregnancies to end in miscarriages before the pregnancy was even known. Could this be the reasoning behind his sister’s “false positive” pregnancy? It beat the alternative.

Because of the difficulty they were having conceiving, both Tohma as well as Mika underwent testing to determine whether there could be anything preventing them from becoming pregnant, such as scar tissue or low sperm count--as was the case for Kizou apparently--but all the tests came back negative. There was nothing, at least from the medical doctor’s point of view, stopping them from becoming pregnant.

_“It could be psychological,”_ was what the doctors suggested.

If there was anyone who had any sort of inkling as to what Kizou was currently experiencing, it would have to be his sister and her husband.

Little Takanori handed his uncle Tatsuha the blue crayon he’d been using.

“Oh, thank you,” Tatsuha said. He now had a pile of crayons besides the page that his nephew had torn out for him.

Eiri chuckled.

His son reached for another crayon, this time red, and turned back to the coloring book.

“That’s very pretty,” Ryuichi said to the toddler.

“Thank you.” This was said without a blush or hesitation.

Oh so modest his son, he thought with a snort.

As for his husband, the singer had gone to the bathroom. Thankfully, it wasn’t at that stage where Shuichi was racing off to the lavatory every five seconds--yet. It was only a matter of time though. Add a rollercoaster of emotions and cravings that would make other expectant mothers nauseous and he’d be lucky to make it through the next twenty-eight weeks without whiplash.

Almost as if it were against his will, Eiri found his gaze traveling yet again to the clock.

For someone who was “just going to the bathroom”, Shuichi has been gone for quite some time. Eiri snorted. What was he saying? This was Shuichi. He probably got lost, fell in the toilet or decided to take a little detour, which would explain why he’d wanted to use a bathrooms on a different floor rather than Tohma’s private en suite bathroom.

Baka.

Just this once he’d indulge his husband.

Besides, the reprieve Shuichi’s momentary absence was giving him was a welcome distraction and not from Shuichi’s idiocy either. From the moment they stepped into the office, Ryuichi has been throwing Shuichi these glances periodically. From the expression on the older man’s face when he watched Shuichi, it was evident Ryuichi was torn and it did not take a genius to figure out what the man was torn over either.

As well he should be, Eiri thought with a flair of anger.

But as glad as he was that Ryuichi remembered their little conversation and was even now in the process of trying to psych himself up enough to man up to his own idiocy, this was not the time. Given the topic of their future discussion, Eiri wasn’t sure if the time would ever be right.

 

* * *

 

Ryuichi sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Setting the brown crayon aside that he’d been using to color in the trunk of the tree in the page his grandson had torn out of his coloring book, he sat back and glanced over his shoulder at the clock.

He always knew that eventually he would have to tell Shuichi the truth, though if he wanted to be honest with himself, there was a small part of him that didn’t want to. Wouldn’t his son be better off not knowing?

_He has a right to know_ , argues a voice in the back of his mind that sounded vaguely like Eiri.

Of course he does, Ryuichi argued back.

Still…!

Would it be worth it? Would emptying his closet of all its skeletons be worth all the pain and earth shattering consequences?

What was better: a comfortable lie or the distressing truth?

It was selfish yes, but Ryuichi was terrified that once the truth was out there, his relationship with Shuichi would change. Nothing would be the same afterwards. How could it? He could only hope that one day Shuichi would forgive him and that he wouldn’t be stopped from seeing his grandson.

“Ryu?” called the soft voice.

Ryuichi blinked back the threatening sting of tears and cleared his throat of a mysterious lump before he acknowledged his husband. He smiled at the concerned expression. “Hm?”

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he assured the younger man. More or less, he added. After all, it wasn’t everyday that a man had to tell his little brother that they were actually father and son.

Knowing what he had to do was not making knowing that he had to do it any easier.

 

* * *

 

****Shuichi would not go so far as to claim it was better than an orgasm, but it was pretty darn close.

Once they discovered he was pregnant, Eiri had forbidden him from indulging in many of his heavenly-turned-sinful delights. Even though they’d technically been separated at the time, it hadn’t stopped them from acting like a couple of teenagers experiencing--hence the pregnancy--and it certainly hadn’t stopped Eiri from turning into Mr. Dictator either.

Fun times.

But that was why he’d used the bathroom ruse. How could he let the opportunity to sneak away from Mr. You’ll-Have-Nothing-But-Rabbit-Food-For-Forty-Weeks-Because-I’ll-Be-Damned-If-I-Let-You-Pollute-My-Child-With-Crap for a couple of minutes pass him by? This was his chance to have whatever he wanted without Eiri breathing down his neck.

The hardest part of having some measure of independence is self-control and as anyone could attest to, he had absolutely none. Meaning, of course, that as soon as he stepped into the cafeteria, he’d wanted one of everything. Pizza. Subs. Chicken wings. Buffalo wings. Chicken fingers. Chicken fries. Chicken bites, otherwise as “boneless chicken wings” apparently. Mozzarella sticks. Pizza logs. Tacos. Chinese. Tai. Vietnamese. Japanese. Pasta. Parfaits. Salads. There was just too much to choose from. If he would have listened to the little Eiri inside his head, he would have steered clear of everything and gone straight for the fruit, but of course he ignored the little party pooper and decided, after much deliberation, to get some ice cream and not that frozen yogurt crap either. Real ice cream.

By the time he paid for the frozen treat and made his way through the cafeteria--stopping several times to speak with various NG employees as well as fellow musicians--to the elevators, he’d devoured the ice cream sandwich, liked his fingers clean and was seriously contemplating going back to buy another. In the end, he decided not to, mostly because he’d already been gone for a while and if he did not get back soon, Eiri would hunt him down. That would not be a good thing, especially seeing he’s been cheating on his diet.

“Stupid Eiri and his stupid rules,” he grumbled.

Standing before the elevator bank, Shuichi pressed the call button. Instead of lighting up, the doors slide open with a ping. A familiar voice called out as he stepped inside the cab.

“Hold the elevator please!”

Shuichi pressed and held the “open” button on the panel. He watched as a tall blond haired man followed closely by a second male who had the appearance of someone who could juggle a city bus or two without breaking a sweat raced into the elevator. Once both men were safely in the elevator and clear of the doors, he let go of the “open” button and watched as the doors slid shut. He noticed the second male had taken up position right before the elevator doors.

“44 please,” rumbled the deep voice behind him.

“Gotcha.” Shuichi started to nod, his finger reaching for the number “44”, but froze even as he pressed the button, which lit up. That voice! Was it…? His eyes wide, Shuichi whipped around. “Kizou,” he cried out happily.

A wide grin poured across the Japanese-French Yakuza boss’s face. “Shuichi! Hey!” Kizou enveloped Shuichi in a hug.

Yutoshi, the muscle bound shadow and bodyguard, spared a moment to glare at Shuichi over his boss’s shoulder.

Shuichi stuck his tongue out at him. It was a childish move to be sure, but one he could not stop from doing. It was a reflex. Yutoshi had a tendency to bring out the best in people, especially if he did not like them very much. Shuichi definitely qualified as one of those people. In fact, if he was not mistaken, he was on the very top of Yutoshi’s very long list. Yutoshi just did not like him. It was that simple.

“Shuichi,” Kizou scolded lightly. He did not have to have eyes in the back of his head to know the rivalry had begun. It was a good thing Yutoshi hadn’t been at the house last week when Shuichi stopped by.

“I didn’t do it,” Shuichi said automatically, freeing himself from his ex-lover.

Kizou gave him a look.

Shuichi wilted under that look. It was the same one Eiri always gave him. “Hey, he started it,” he argued, pointing to the gorilla of a man.

Yutoshi said nothing, just gave Shuichi a not so flattering once over before returning to guard hiss boss from the closed elevator door.

A light growl rumbled in Shuichi’s throat.

Kizou heaved a heavy sigh. “Honestly, you’re like children.”

“Am not!”

Yutoshi snorted.

Something inside Shuichi snapped. “What was that ape face?”

And it begins, Kizou thought with a heavy sigh.

 

* * *

 

The ride to the top floor where Tohma’s office was located was a long, silent journey. The tense air in the cramped car made what was usually a two or three minute ride--depending on how many times the elevator needed to stop to pick up and or drop off passengers--seem twice as long. It reminded Kizou sharply of a bridge near his childhood home in France that he used to cross on an almost daily basis. He remembered thinking that the bridge seemed to stretch for miles, even though in actuality it was only several hundred feet long. Crossing it seemed to take forever. It went on and on and on and on. It was like a nightmare where you’re running from some unknown entity. The harder you run, the faster you get nowhere. He’d hated that bridge as a child, but when his parents announced after his little brother was killed that they were moving to Japan, he’d mourned the loss of that bridge. Strange how that happens.

He kept trying to distract Shuichi away from the blatant animosity he felt towards Yutoshi, to make the ride easier for everybody--himself especially--but it didn’t work. The phrase “if looks could kill” seemed very appropriate.

They’d never liked one another, Yutoshi and Shuichi. Never. Yutoshi, he could remember, hadn’t had a problem with that first initial introduction in the bathroom of some dive all those years ago. It was everything that transpired afterwards that Yutoshi’d had a problem with. Kizou never did get a satisfactory answer about this dislike Yutoshi and Shuichi felt for one another. Apparently, Shuichi hated Yutoshi because Yutoshi hated him. Yutoshi hated Shuichi…Well, who knows why. Frankly, Kizou could care less. As long as Yutoshi realized that despite the hatred he felt towards Shuichi, Shuichi from here on out--if the results of the paternity test came back stating he was indeed the biological father of little Takanori Uesugi--was going to remain part of his life.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and wished he were back home in bed. To think it was only midday.

“Thank God,” he muttered gratefully as the elevator lurched to a stop on the top floor of the modern glass and metal NG Productions building in the heart of downtown Chiyoda-ku.

Shuichi, impatient to leave the crowded car and the annoying bodyguard far behind before he caught gorilla-itis, stepped forward, but a large hairy arm impeded his movements. “What’s your problem?” he snapped angrily over the loud ping. A hand landed on his shoulder. He started at the touch. He glanced over his shoulder at its owner.

“Let him do his job,” Kizou told the younger man.

Shuichi opened his mouth to argue. “But-”

Kizou merely shook his head.

Beyond irritated now, Shuichi crossed his arms over his chest and huffed in annoyance. It was nothing personal against bodyguards, but it was personal against this bodyguard in particular. Bastard.

Yutoshi stepped out of the elevator and glanced up and down the hall.

His impatience growing, Shuichi waited for the empty corridor--that could not be more than several dozen meters long at most and had only the only door at the far end--to be swept and cleared. It seemed to take longer than it should. Knowing Yutoshi, the man was probably taking extra long just to annoy Shuichi. It was working.

Shuichi had to press the “open” button several times before Yutoshi was satisfied the coast was clear.

Rolling his eyes, Shuichi strode out of the elevator and marched down the hall towards Tohma’s office, brushing by Kizou and his shadow none too gently.

Sighing, Kizou followed the angry singer at a more leisurely pace. He spared a glance for Yutoshi whose expression did not change.

Shuichi was…He did not want to say Shuichi was hard to deal with under normal circumstances, but it was a pretty close assessment, but now that Shuichi was pregnant, dealing with his already overly emotional state was near to impossible and to have Yutoshi deliberately rile Shuichi up was not helping matters. He did not envy Mr. Uesugi in the least.

At the sound of a door slamming, Kizou pried his attention from the wall art he had been making a pretense of examining, pretense because he had not taken in anything, and glanced up the hall. It was empty except for himself and Yutoshi.

This was going to be a long day, he decided.

Outside that same door Shuichi had vanished into, Yutoshi remained.

“Mr. Kizou?” asked a young woman as he entered.

“Yes,” he confirmed as he shut the door behind him.

The woman smiled warmly at him. “Go right in, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Crossing the small reception area to the only other door, which had been left ajar, Kizou slipped inside a large modern office. The far wall was not a wall at all, but floor to ceiling windows overlooking the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. The NG Production record company building was by far the tallest in the surrounding area. It made for a breath taking view. Glass shelving units filled with awards and plagues stretched the entirety of the left hand wall, marred only by a door. Behind the door he had entered through was a small row of file cabinets. A sitting area, occupied by two men and his--hopefully--son, took up the right hand wall.

As he entered, all eyes were on him. All conversation came to a halt.

In chairs before a U-shaped desk that looked as if it cost ten times more than he’d paid for his sat Shuichi and besides him Mr. Eiri Yuki. There was an empty chair besides the writer. It appeared as if Shuichi had not yet cooled down, if the look the singer was giving him was any indication. Looks like a serious conversation with Yutoshi was in order later.

“Where’s the moron?” Shuichi demanded.

“Shu,” sighed a resigned looked Eiri.

Shuichi ignored his husband.

Guessing by “moron”, Shuichi was referring to Yutoshi, Kizou answered, “Out in the hall.”

“Good.” The less he had to interact with that--that…sorry excuse for a human being the better. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from the Yakuza boss with a childish humph.

The struggled to keep from snapping at his husband was great. Eiri felt his eye twitching.

Kizou let his gaze sweep around the office once again.

The toddler that might just be his son appeared to be deeply engrossed in what he was doing, so engrossed that he hadn’t even realized someone new had arrived. One of the men with his son he recognized instantly as Ryuichi Sakuma, Shuichi’s older brother if he wasn‘t mistaken. While he was not a fan, some of the younger Dragons were, especially Narata. The other man he did not know, though given the remarkable appearance to Eiri Yuki, it was a safe bet the two were brothers, possibly even twins.

Then there was a small blond man who rose from behind the large, expensive desk. “Ah! Mr. Kizou.”

Kizou recognized him as well. “Mr. Seguchi.” He strode farther into the room and shook the man’s hand.

Little Takanori’s head snapped up and around at the voice. A grin spread across his face. It was that man! Now they could play and maybe even have some of that yummy drink that tickled his nose.

Jumping to his feet, he raced towards the man.

“Well, now-” Tohma’s announcement was cut short by the appearance of his nephew was who launched himself at the new arrival with such gusto that he nearly knocked the poor man off his feet.

Eiri chuckled. Definitely his mother’s son.

Shuichi gasped. “Takanori!”

Little Takanori was oblivious to everything but the man to whose leg he was clamped around. “Hi!”

Kizou chuckled. “Hi there.”

“Do you wanna play?”

“Well…” Kizou glanced around for some support.

“Takanori, sweetie,” Shuichi was saying. He scooted to the edge of the chair and bending over, clasped his hands between his knees. “Not now okay?”

Little Takanori pouted. He stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanna play now!”

Images of Shuichi flashed through Eiri’s head. He exchanged a knowing look with Ryuichi, who was chuckling lightly.

Kizou squatted down before the two year old. “Hey, I have an idea.” His hazel eyes as golden as a pile of gold twinkled. “Why don’t you go see if you can get Uncle Ryuichi to buy you some Ramuné? Remember? It’s that drink we had the other day with the marble and the bubbles that tickled your nose?” He wrinkled his nose for emphasis.

“I ‘member! I like that drink!”

“Me, too,” Kizou whispered. “And afterwards we can play okay?”

Grinning, little Takanori raced back to the sitting area and started hopping around Ryuichi excitedly. “Can we get some ‘uné?”

Eiri’s eye twitched.

“Of course,” Ryuichi complied easily.

Making sure he had his wallet, Ryuichi stood from the couch and holding out his hand, escorted his grandson from the office and down the hall to the elevators, all the while listening to the toddler ramble a million miles an hour about something that Ryuichi could not quite understand.

“Well, as I was saying,” Tohma restarted, “now that we’re all here, shall we get started?” His eye scanned the others.

Suddenly, there was a swarm of elephants doing the samba in Kizou’s stomach. Feeling more nervous that he could remember ever being before in his life, he carefully lowered himself into a chair besides Eiri. He caught Shuichi’s eye. The younger man grinned. Guess he was forgiven. Some of the nervousness melted away.

As Tohma retook his seat, he glanced passed his guests to the man sitting in the shadows of the office door. “Mr. Iba? If you’d do the honors?”

“Of course.”

As one, they all turned and watched as a man whom Kizou was assuming was this Mr. Iba strode forward. There was a large business envelope in his hands.

The results. The results were in that envelope.

This was it. Oh, God. This was it. In a matter of seconds, they would all know. Was he or wasn’t he?

His heart was hammering so loudly within his chest, it was a wonder nobody called him on it. The elephants were now performing a dizzying waltz. It was making his stomach churn.

“Everyone, this is Takashi Iba from the DNA Diagnostic Center,” Tohma introduced. “He personally ran the test.”

A low murmuring met this announcement.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, as if he were on the verge of passing out, Kizou watched as the business envelope was opened and a single sheet of paper was slid out. His palms grew slick with sweat.

Was it too late to change his mind?

The tension within the office was almost painful.

Tohma noticed that Eiri’s knee was bouncing again. This time faster. It was moving at warp speed. The smaller hand clenched within his was white knuckled. He followed the arm that the hand belonged to and noticed that Shuichi looked like he was on the verge of being sick.

Takashi Iba cleared his throat. “With a 99.995 percent probability...” He paused.

Whether for dramatic purposes, as if he had some misguided notion of this being a program on television, or maybe he was feeling just as nervous as the rest of them, Kizou was not sure, but he was sure he wasn’t the only one who wanted to cry out, “Get on with it man!” Maybe a swift kick up the ass would help this man to get a move on.

“…Rique Kizou is…” Takashi Iba lifted his gaze from the paper in his hands and sought out the man in question. “…the father of one Takanori Eiri Uesugi.” Or so he tried to say. He hadn’t even gotten passed “father” before the cheering began. It wasn’t even cheering. It was more like a roar of sound.

Shuichi was up and out of his chair before the sentence was even half out of the man’s mouth. Laughing and crying at the same time, he flung himself at Eiri and then at Kizou.

“Congratulations Mr. Kizou,” Tatsuha shouted above the noise from his seat on the couch.

Kizou was stunned to say the least. He had a son? He’d heard the words, but it was as if they’d been spoken in a foreign language that he did not know or understand.

“Congratulations,” rumbled a voice.

He had a son.

Still in shock, Kizou went to open his mouth, but nothing came out but a squeak, so he nodded.

He freaking had a son!

The first tear slid down his face. He was never a religious man before, but now he was certain. There had to be a God because this was nothing short of a miracle.

 

* * *

**III**

* * *

**  
**   


Somewhere amidst the impromptu celebration celebrating Kizou’s new status as a father, someone had brought Shuichi a cup of tea. He had a feeling Eiri was responsible. Or, more likely, Eiri via Tohma via Nana. That man really was too good to him. Overprotective and possessive as hell, but way out of his league.

The white ceramic teacup and saucer were not traditional Japanese, but Shuichi thought they were beautiful, especially the colorful bouquet of flowers and lively butterflies that decorated both.

Eiri‘s opinion of such feminine cups? “They suit you.”

“Shut up,” Shuichi had retorted, but there had been no stopping the grin.

Shuichi brought the cup to his face and breathed in the heavenly aroma. It was a wonderful scent. It loosened the coils of tension knotting his insides. He took a tentative sip and practically moaned. It was liquid sex. Absolutely perfect. Not his usual blend, but it was would do. Oh, most definitely. The warmth of the tea flowed through him, vanishing the tension within him completely.

Through the steam rising from the cup, Shuichi swept his gaze across the office to the black leather couch where Kizou, Ryuichi and Tatsuha were listening intently to two year old little Takanori who was both stuffing his face with the junk food laid out before him--he was partial to potato chips loaded with half the dip in the container--on the coffee table and speaking adamantly about one thing or another. Shuichi chuckled at the serious expression on his son’s face.

Where minutes prior the stacks of coloring books, the colored pencils, crayons and markers had been his son’s lifeblood, now it all littered the floor, long forgotten.

So fickle his son.

With a two thousand watt grin on his face, Shuichi turned towards the man of the hour: Rique Kizou. Now there was a happy man. To the best of his knowledge, Shuichi could not remember a time when Kizou was this radiant.

“Fatherhood suits him,” he thought aloud.

He was glad Kizou turned out to be the father of little Takanori. Kizou would be a great father. There was no doubt in Shuichi’s mind.

But…

While he’d never been in love with Kizou, he did love the older man. It was impossible not to. He’d been a kind and gentle lover, compassionate, protective. If he’d never met and fallen in love with Eiri, Shuichi honestly could have foreseen spending the rest of his life with Kizou. Of course that was something he had no intention of confessing to Eiri anytime soon.

Despite the vast wealth of knowledge that Shuichi had on the Black Dragons, knowledge that in certain hands--hands like the PSIA--could bring down the entire association once and for all, Kizou had let him go that day without a second thought. Not many in Kizou’s position would have done that. That was the type of person Kizou was. Ruthless, hard, vindictive and unforgiving when he was forced to be, to those who earned his trust and respect, Kizou could be a formidable ally. Cross him and he would not think twice about cracking your head wide open.

But it was the Yakuza part that had Shuichi on edge.

Of course they--meaning he, Eiri and Kizou--still had many things to discuss concerning their son, but Yakuza or not, Shuichi could not very well in good conscience keep Kizou away from his son. Kizou deserved to get to know and spend time with his son and vice versa. But it was because Kizou was the leader of the Black Dragons, a notorious Yakuza gang, which had Shuichi on edge and knotted his insides in nervousness. He was not going to keep his son from his father even though said man was a criminal and led a very dangerous lifestyle, but he couldn’t help but be frightened at the endless possibilities that could ensue because of it. That was not to say that he did not trust Kizou, Eiri or Tohma, for he did. All three of them would never let harm befall little Takanori, but that did not stop him from worrying. It was his right as a parent.

All this uncertainty and worry was starting to give him heartburn.

Seeing the different emotions--the most prominent one being fear--race across Shuichi’s face one after another twisted at Eiri. It brought out a side of him he never knew existed before that fateful night nearly three years ago. Every time this protective, possessive side of him came roaring to the forefront, it took him by surprised. That he felt this strongly about anyone that he would go to bat for them or do whatever he could to see that frown turned upside down was something he’d never thought he would ever experience.

Going against his first impulse to ignore what he’d thought at first to be a bum asleep on the bench in the middle of the park had been the best decision of his life.

It still amazed him to this day that the sixteen year old he’d been obsessed with had reciprocated his feelings and was even now not only his life partner, but also carrying his children.

Not caring for the worry lining his husband’s face, Eiri draped an arm around Shuichi’s shoulders and pulled the smaller man gently against him.

Shuichi leaned his head against Eiri’s shoulder with a content sigh. “What’ll happen next?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Eiri said truthfully.

“That is something you, Eiri and Mr. Kizou will have to discuss.”

Eiri was forced to drop his arm as he and Shuichi turned towards the source of the voice. Neither cared for the loss of contact.

Sitting behind his desk with his hands steepled before him was Tohma.

“In the meantime, there are a few things we should go over before the press conference,” he continued. At the grimace, Tohma reassured his brother-in-law that neither he nor Shuichi nor Kizou would be required to attend.

Both men breathed a sigh of relief. They despised having to deal with the press.

“Ah, Mr. Kizou,” he called, “if you could join us please? There are some things we need to go over and then I’ll leave you to your…negotiations.”

Eiri snorted.

“Certainly,” Kizou replied.

Shuichi watched as Kizou bent towards their son and spoke softly. Though he could not hear what was being said, he knew it was something their son did not like when, predictably, the two year old started to pout. He folded his arms over his chest and plopped down on the floor, dropping his head so far forward that his chin touched his chest.

His son. The drama queen. At least he wasn’t hitting his head against the floor. That scared Shuichi half to death. It was a new maneuver little Takanori had taken to doing and he did it quite often. Once when Eiri refused to buy a particular toy that little Takanori wanted, little Takanori sat down on the floor in the middle of the crowded store and starting smashing his forehead into the floor. When he told Ryuichi about this, his brother claimed he used to do the same thing.

From besides him, Eiri all but rolled his eyes.

Not liking the miserable expression on his son’s face, Kizou slid off the couch and crouched down on the floor besides the toddler. This time what he told little Takanori was better received.

“I like that,” little Taknori stated confidently and loud enough for them all to hear.

“Good.” Kizou kissed the boy’s forehead. “Why don’t you play with Uncle Ryuichi and Uncle Tatsuha while I talk to Mommy and Daddy okay?”

“Okay!” Excited at the prospect of getting to play more with the nice man again later, little Takanori stood up and grabbed another chip out of the bowl and plunged it into the dip.

Standing with a grunt that had Shuichi giggling, Kizou made his way across the office towards the others, ruffling his son’s soft raven hair as he passed.

Eiri inclined his head in greeting and Shuichi smiled as Kizou reclaimed the seat he’d been in earlier. Shuichi reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Well,” Tohma stated, watching the three men before him. He reclined back in his chair. “We have a lot of ground to cover. The press is going to be all over this story; especially you Mr. Kizou seeing you are who you are.”

Shuichi squirmed uncomfortably.

Kizou gave the smaller hand within his a reassuring squeeze.

“The first question will most likely be how you can be the father Mr. Kizou if Shuichi and Taki Aizawa were dating at the time of the conception. Where do you fit in?”

Oh wonderful, Shuichi groaned. It was a good thing he was not required to be at the press conference. Guess all the skeletons were coming out of the closet now.

 

**…To Be Continued…**


	9. The Boomerang from Hell

* * *

 

**Chapter 9: The Boomerang from Hell**

**Later That Evening - TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo, Japan**

A small portable radio sat behind the reception desk in the lobby of The Christian Network studios. Nobody could remember anymore to whom the radio belonged. Currently, it was tuned to local Christian radio station WLOF, known as the “Station of the Cross” (1). A soft Christian rock song trickled softly out of the speakers.

Isako Kinku looked up as the lobby doors opened. “Evening,” she smiled.

The man approaching was clad in a brown uniform. He was carrying a package not much larger than a jewelry box and a clipboard. “Hello. I have a package here for Chishin Yamada. Sign here.” He handed over the clipboard.

Kinku signed at the bottom. “Thank you,” she smiled again and handed back the clipboard in exchange for the package.

“Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Kinku turned the small package over. There was no return address. That in and of itself was not surprising. Setting the package aside, she reached for the phone.

“Isa!”

Kinku looked up. A tall woman with blond dyed hair secured into a bun and wearing an olive green skirt suit was rushing towards her. The click clack of her black heels echoed loudly against the tiled floor. “Ririko.”

Ririko Zenigata had not always been a friend. They hadn’t even been acquaintances. Kinku couldn’t even say honestly that they used to be rivals. In fact, when they hadn’t been trying to avoid the other as humanly possible, despite working for the same small television studio, they used to butt heads quite often, but what else would you expect from two people who each believed “their God” was the one true god? Each believed it to be a blessing that neither had to deal with the other outside of work, until that was exactly what they’d been forced to do.

It was at a family gathering two summers ago.  Her brother had arrived with his new girlfriend, who turned out to be none other than Ririko.  She had no other option, at that point, then to swallow her malice for the over Christianized woman--she was sure she used a stronger word back then.  If her brother was in love with this woman, if Ririko made her brother happy, then who was she to stand in their way?  Six months later, they were married.  Six months after that, Ririko came to her, crying, in the middle of the night.  She’d walked in on her husband with another woman.  Strangely enough, after that, they two became best friends.

“Turn on the news,” Ririko was demanding in a breathless huff. “Turn on the news!”

“Why?” Kinku furrowed her brow in confusion.

“You know how there’s been this whole…” Ririko flailed her hands about as she rushed around the reception desk and grabbed the radio, “…thing,” she decided, “about who the father of Shuichi Shindou’s child is and everything?” She fiddled with the dials until she came to one of the public broadcasting radio stations. “Well, I guess the results came back,” she continued without waiting for an answer.

With her heart beating wildly within her chest, Kinku spun the chair around to face the other woman. She leaned towards her, her dark eyes wide with excitement and curiosity. “And?” she pressed eagerly.

“I don’t know! They didn’t-”

_“And now we bring you to the press conference live from NG Productions,”_ the DJ cut into their conversation.

Ririko shushed her. “It’s starting,” she whispered eagerly. Despite her skirt, she squatted down behind the reception desk besides Kinku.

Both women huddled around the radio.

Kinku turned up the volume.

_“Thank you all for coming.”_ The male spoke softly, yet there was something commanding about his voice. It made you sit up and take notice.

Kinku exchanged a knowing glance with Ririko.

“Tohma,” the other woman mouthed.

Kinku nodded.

_“As you may know, in response to the influx of demands all wanting to know who the biological father of one Takanori Eiri Uesugi is, Mr. Shuichi Shindou decided to order a DNA paternity test done. Earlier this afternoon, we received the results.”_

Both women held their breaths and pressed theirs ear to the speakers of the tiny portable radio.

 

* * *

 

It was too perfect.

Chishin felt the laughter bubbling up inside of him. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t stop it from bursting forth and once he started he could not seem to stop. All too soon, there were tears in his eyes and a stitch in his side.

“I don’t think it’s that funny, Yamada,” said the male voice over the speakerphone. “After all, she was partially right.”

Well, didn’t that just suck the amusement out of the situation? Chishin rolled his eyes at the phone. “I don’t think Nami being right about Aizawa not being the father is anything to worry about, Iso.” Besides, one did not need to be a rocket scientist or have the results of a paternity test in hand to realize that something had been off with the claim that Taki Aizawa fathered Takanori Uesugi. It should have been obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.

“No, but,” Isoroku argued, “some people aren’t going to be satisfied with the results. If Shindou lied about whom the father of his child was, then what else has he been lying about? This is just going to add fuel to the fire.”

Chishin had to give Isoroku that. He made a valid point, but still. “Some people aren’t going to be satisfied no matter what,” he reminded his friend. Those people were in love with the sound of their voice. What other reason could these people have for speaking out against everything? “Besides, Mr. Seguchi’s explaining about that right now.”

“The father of Shuichi Shindou’s child is a man named Rique Kizou.” Tohma spoke the name of the half-Japanese half-French men carefully. “He and Mr. Shindou were together for many years, but he was never considered as a candidate because Mr. Kizou suffered from testicular cancer some years before he and Mr. Shindou…”

Isoroku hummed over the line. “Testicular cancer.”

“It happens.” Chishin was not sure if he personally knew anyone who had battled cancer, but he had friends who had relatives who had. It definitely was not an easy situation to deal with for anybody, whether it is the person with the cancer or a relative of said person.

Now, he did not know much about this particular cancer, but he did know that there was a possibility it could leave a man sterile. If both Shuichi and this Kizou guy believed that to be the case then of course they would never suspect that the child that Shuichi had conceived belonged to him.

“Yeah, but it seems-”

“Too convenient?” Chishin finished.

“Exactly.”

Chishin sighed. Nothing to be done about that. People find out someone is lying and demand to know the truth, but when they are told the truth, the truth is so shocking that they automatically assume they are being lied to again. That just goes to show that most people, even though they say they want the truth, in actuality, want a pretty lie. Sometimes an untruth is easier to accept than the truth.

Speaking of which, he wondered how his old friend was taking the news.

 

* * *

 

**The Trinity Offices - Setagaya, Tokyo, Japan**

Well, Nami thought. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events. She definitely had not seen this one coming. However, the knowledge that she had been right--at least partially--had her doing a happy jig in her chair--or at least mentally. Despite the surprise outcome, she was satisfied. After all, she’d only set out to prove that Shuichi Shindou lied about the father of his child--that was her story and she sticking to it--and the results of the paternity test proved just that…Well, guess it really depended on how you looked at it. Can someone truly lie if what he or she knew at the time was not the whole truth? Or so the claim was being made. Whether or not that was the case was up for debate. Frankly, she did not care one way or another now.

Her prejudices with the so-called third sex were well known. After all, it was not as if she ever tried to hide them. She found them to be a disgrace, disgusting, immoral, a waste of human flesh…So on and so forth. But she was not about to storm their home in the middle of the night with torches and pitch forks, string them up the nearest tree while a mob curses and spits and beats them like a piñata or tie them to a fence in the middle of nowhere and beat them senseless and then maybe drag them down the street behind the car for miles. She was not that much of an idiot. As long as they left her alone, she would leave them alone. It was as simple as that.

If one of Them hit on her, it wasn’t as if she went postal. Maybe slap him and call him a derogatory name or two.

Nami grabbed the remote, aimed it at the giant flat screen TV secured to the wall opposite her and pressed the red power button. The image on the screen froze and then faded to black.

Besides, she’d only seemed to be so obsessed with Shindou because, well, the truth of the matter was, she and Ayaka had come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Of course, this little tidbit of information was on a need to know basis and at the moment, nobody needed to know. Unless your name was Chishin Yamada and you had friends in high places.

Speaking of which. That reminded her.

As she sat back, her eyes fell to the phone.

She wondered if Ayaka knew yet.

 

* * *

 

**Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

Ayaka was not happy. She was not happy at all. This just would not do. Oh, no it would not. Nami had warned her that something like this might happen. She should have listened. Why hadn’t she listened? Oh why had she ignored what had so obviously been sound advice from her very best friend? Well that was easy. Because she’d been so sure everything would work out in her favor. As far as she’d been concerned, there hadn’t been any need to not be certain of the outcome. Her hopes had been so high that she’d been convinced that Nami’s constant negativity would bring her down. So instead of embracing what had turned out to be sound advice, she’d basically told the girl to sod off.

No matter.

What’s done was done. The past was the past. Nothing short of a time turner or another sort of time machine was going to aide her into doing anything about the past. What she could do something about was the future. Yes, the future. It hadn’t been written as of yet. There was still hope. Oh, yes there was. As long as there was breath in her body, there was still a chance that everything would work out, maybe not exactly as she‘d planned, but why argue over insignificant details? The desire for something did not die just because the road to it was blocked. If anything, it only intensified the desire. All you had to do was follow the detour around the blockade. If there wasn’t one, then you had to create one. It was as simple as that.

As simple as that logic was, it did not cease the flood of bitter emotions sweeping through her.

The plan had been so simple, so easy. It’d been foolproof. All she thought she’d had to do in order to split Eiri and Shuichi up was prove that as a mate, Shuichi was undesirable. And what type of person was the least desirable? A liar. Who would want to share a bed with a liar? How could you trust someone who only knew how to spew untruths?

She should’ve known that her plan was too good to be true.

As the saying went, “If it’s too good to be true, it usually is.”

So deeply engrossed in her anger-fueled ministrations was she that the sudden cracking noise sounded like a gunshot in the otherwise silence of the house.

A reporter for the twenty-four hour news station she happened to land on when the news broke was now speaking to an expert in the field of cancer research.

“Oh yes,” the man was saying. “It is certainly possible. Now I am not familiar with specifics of Mr. Kizou‘s case, but I had a patient a few years ago in a similar…”

Slowly, Ayaka shifted her unblinking gaze down at her clenched hand, which was in the process of strangling the life out of the television remote. Unfurling her hand, one finger at a time, she did not so much as grimace at the sight that greeted her. There was a fine spider web of cracks spiraling out from the lower portion of the remote. A particularly long crack raced up the center.

“-reporting live from outside NG Productions. Thank you Wakamiya.”

With more difficulty than she thought possible, she tore her gaze from the destruction her anger had brought upon the innocent remote control, and glanced at the television.

“In other news, a police chase on Route 4 this morning had traffic tied up for hours. Take a look at this.”

The picture changed from the live feed to a prerecorded one.

Ayaka squinted at the unsteady image that had obviously been captured from the inside of a vehicle of some sort. If the loud siren was anything to go by, she assumed the vehicle in question was a police cruiser. It was weaving in and out of traffic. There was the occasional vehicle that thought it was better than the rest of society, or maybe it knew something the rest of the world did not know, because it refused to pull over for the emergency personnel coming up fast behind them.

Judging by the scenery whizzing by along the sides of the screen, the chase was racing through some city that she could not identify.

“This was taken from the dash cam of an Arakawa police cruiser.”

She watched in fascination as the cruiser continued to meander its way through the heavy traffic. At one point, the driver lost control and started to spin out, but thankfully, he was able to regain control before the car was flipped over into a ditch. That was when she caught glimpses of the other police cars.

The suspect vehicle, going well above the speed limit, suddenly swerved sharply to the right. It crossed several lanes of traffic, dodging any number of accidents just by sheer dumb luck, jumped the median and emerged on the other side going northbound. The problem was that traffic was heading southbound, towards the suspect vehicle.

Ayaka gasped in horror.

“Watch again. The suspect vehicle jumps the median into the southbound lane. He weaves around a semi onto the shoulder, but an SUV who’d decided to pull over, suddenly looms before him. Before either driver has a chance to doing anything, they collide head on.”

Ayaka cringed away from the scene. It seemed worse in slow motion.

“The driver of the SUV walked away with a couple of broken ribs, a broken wrist and minor cuts and bruises, but alive. The suspect was not as lucky. He died later at the hospital.

“It had since been revealed that the suspect fled when cops attempted to pull him over for a broken taillight because apparently he was already out on probation and had empty beer bottles in his car.”

As horrid as the ending of the chase was, it did give her an idea.

A sly grin crossed her face.

Oh, yes.  This time it would work out.  She was certain.  Eiri will be hers.

 

* * *

 

On the hill behind the Usami residence, amidst the shadows, Shiho dozed lightly. It was the one drawback of being a mercenary. Since it was not a nine to five type of job, it was somewhat difficult to get those ten hours of sleep each night that was said a person needed to function. Despite the severe lack of sleep required to perform her duties, though, she would not change jobs for anything in the world.

What she could do without was the rude wake up calls.

Before she could fully comprehend what she was doing or what was happening, she’d snatched her gun from its thigh holster and had it cocked and aimed before she was even on her feet.

She blinked at the tall blond man before her. For several long seconds everything went still. Then the tension rushed out of her all at once. She released her pent up breath in an explosive sigh.

“K.”

She started to lower her gun.

“Son of a…”

A tearing pain suddenly ripped through her head. It doubled her over. Pressing the heel of her free hand to her head, she hissed out a long series of colorful phrases through gritted teeth.

Why K could not greet someone as if he were a normal human being was beyond her. Honestly, this man was going to be the death of her one of these days.

Seemingly unconcerned with any injuries he possibly could have inflicted,--after all, she’s lucky it was just a steel toed boot upside the head and not a Molotov cocktail shoved up her ass--the American demanded, “Where’s the target?” How dare she fall asleep in the middle of an assignment?

“In the house,” Shiho managed to spit out. “Goddamn it!” Her head felt as if it had been cleaved open. She bet she had a concussion. Despite it holding her gun, she brought her other hand to her head. “Where’s she been all goddamn day.” Damn him!

K shot a look through the trees to the Usami residence at the base of the hill, taking in every detail in a matter of moments.

“Where the hell did you come from anyway?” Shiho questioned. When the only reply was the cry of the squirrels and the chirping of the birds, she raised her head and frowned. “What the fuck?” Dropping her hands, she slowly stood up, wincing once as her head gave a particularly painful throb. “Where the hell did he go?” If she didn’t know better, she would swear the man was a ghost.

 

* * *

 

It was way too quiet. That was what K noticed immediately as he crept up onto the side porch off the tatami room. He did not have a good feeling about this.

Drawing his trusted magnum, K flattened himself against the outer wall of the house besides the sliding door, which had been left open. He waited and listened. No movement. No sound. No nothing.

He did not like this. Not one bit.

Maybe the target was asleep. Entirely possible. Who would leave a door open if they were going out?

_Someone who wanted his or her valuables stolen?_

Ignoring that little voice in the back of his mind that continued to niggle at him, K slowly stepped into the house--not even bothering to remove his shoes.

Tatami room. Empty.

From there, he had a clear view into the kitchen. It too was empty. As was the first floor bathroom, or whatever the Asians called it.

Technically speaking, the “bathroom” was not what Westerners would call the bathroom. What you stepped into from the hall was called the dressing room. The only thing remotely bathroom-y in the room was the vanity and the storage closets. Sometimes, the toilet was in a separate room of its own. Sometimes it was located in the dressing room. The actual “bathroom” was a separate room off the dressing room in which was the bathtub.

From there he swept the living room. Empty. Warmth flooded through his hand when he touched the back of the television. Someone had been here not too long ago. It was just as Shiho stated.

Despite his large physique, K swept up the staircase to the second floor as silently as if he were a ghost. He cleared the second bathroom, three bedrooms and finally the attic.

The house was empty.

“Shit,” he hissed with feeling.

The target was gone.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

“How do you think this will affect Mr. Shindou’s career? Having the father of his son being a Yakuza boss?” asked the reporter on the screen to one of her guests, an editor for some entertainment magazine. “Could Mr. Shindou’s life, as well as that of his son, be in danger?”

“That’s hard to say…”

Mai reached for the remote and shut off the television. Concern lining her face, she glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen at the phone she could just see from her position on the couch. She bit her lip, rubbing sweaty palms up and down her jean-clad legs.

_“Could Mr. Shindou’s life, as well as that of his son, be in danger?”_

The thought of both her son as well as her grandson being placed in harm’s way because some bitch with a fucked up view of neutrals could not leave well enough alone infuriated her. Before she had time to fully process what she was doing, she was flinging herself off the sofa and into the kitchen where she wrote her husband and daughter a quick note on the white board on the fridge and marched through the house to the front hall closet, grabbed her purse, slid her feet into her shoes and stalked out of the house like a mother on a mission.

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

**  
**   


**En Route - Kyoto, Japan**

There was a tumult of emotions coursing through the man known simply as K. The most prominent of those being anger. No, it wasn’t anger he was feeling, or more accurately, the feeling raging through him was not so simple to identify. The closest he could come to describing the emotion was fury and even then it did not do the feeling justice. Even calling it a feeling was not right. It was more a state of being and it was currently eating him alive.

Never had he failed so miserably at an assignment. Actually, he’d never failed. Not once. Before today, there hadn’t even been a single smudge or smear or black mark. His track record had been so clean you could have eaten off it. It had taken more years than Shiho has been alive to gain the level of respect and trust that he had and for it all to be destroyed in a single instant was unacceptable.

How could this have happened?

This violent feeling boiling within him screamed to be let out. It was slowly seducing him, luring him with sweet words and even sweeter promises. It was telling him that once unleashed, it would make him feel like a king!

Oh how tempting it was! Alas, not tempting enough.

Having his judgment clouded would not be an effective strategy to complete his assignment and he intended to see this assignment through to the end no matter the consequences.

He may have lost Ms. Usami, but it was a momentary glitch. He would find her and when he did--not if, but when--he would first thank her for being able to give him--him of all people--the slip, which he had to admit with a mixture of pride and annoyance, had never happened before.

“Bravo, Ms. Usami, bravo.”

This once in a lifetime hiccup was to be praised, definitely, but he had every intention of never allowing it to happen again.

It did lead him to wonder if the target had known she was being followed. Could that be why she slipped out of the house unseen? Or was it a freakish accident? K was more inclined to believe that the target hadn’t wanted to be seen leaving the residence by anyone at all. But why? Whether or not she was aware that she was being spied upon, her ability to shake them off had been a brilliant play. Under different circumstances, Ms. Usami could have become a very valuable addition to this ragtag band of miscreants. Shame.

With a smoldering cigarette clamped between his lips, his long blond hair pulled up into a ponytail and reflective shades over eyes bluer than the Mediterranean, he rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt as he waited at a red light. The straps of his shoulder holster squeaked as he moved. When the light changed, he floored the gas pedal. The car that some kind old man had been kind enough to allow him to borrow shot forward. The scenery became a blur of color.

He pressed a button on the rearview mirror that had a white phone etched onto it. “Call Tohma,” he commanded. He signaled before switching lanes as the call was put through. It would not do to be pulled over on a traffic violation.

“Yes?” a soft-spoken male voice flowed into the car moments later.

“K here, sir.”

“Status?”

K cringed. Never before has the urge to lie during a briefing been so strong. What the boss did not know would not hurt him right? Yeah, until it came back to bite you on the ass, came the thought. “Yellow, sir,” he confessed. There was a long, silent pause. It caused K to squirm. He was more uncomfortable listening to the even breathing over the phone than he had been at his own wedding and that was taking his wife into account--who was even more psychotic than people claimed he was.

“Excuse me?”

Even though the tone of Tohma’s voice did not change, it still sent a chill down K’s spine. Suddenly, he was glad he decided to call. If this debriefing had been made in person, he might very well be minus his favorite body part right about now.

“The target, sir…she, uhm…we lost her. She’s in the wind.” He wondered if he sounded as pathetic as he thought he did.

In his office in Tokyo, Tohma leaned back in his chair. The leather squeaked. The springs creaked. He leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair and laced his fingers together before his lips.

“Uhm, sir?”

“Find her,” Tohma replied simply and with calm he did not feel. He dropped his hands. “Find her. NOW!”

K jumped at the uncharacteristic yell. It caused the car speakers to buzz with static. “Yes! Yes sir.” He slumped over, exhaling in relief as the line went dead. Tohma Seguchi just had to be the scariest man on the face of the planet. He answered his cellphone went it buzzed seconds later. “Yes?”

“Sir, I think I may know where the target is heading,” came Shiho’s voice over the car speakers.

“Where?” he demanded to know.

“Tokyo.”

“What are you basing this from?”

“Results of a paternity test.”

K cocked an eyebrow. “And?”

“They involve Shuichi Shindou’s son.”

K stilled his fingers that had been drumming on the steering wheel.

Normally, the specific details of a case mattered little to him unless they pertained directly to the job. If a husband hired him to off his wife, the why and what did not matter. All that concerned him was the when and how: when would be the best time and how should it be accomplished. There were times, though, when he felt he needed to know more about his client as well as the target. This had been the case this time.

The target was one Ayaka Usami. She was an only child. Father was a Buddhist monk who ran the Ryugan temple. Mother was a housewife. Preferred a quiet night at home with a good book to hitting the clubs. Non-smoker. Non-drinker. Reserved, but could be outspoken when she had to be. Did not have many friends. Had one obsession: her ex-betrothed Eiri Uesugi, known by the pseudonym Eiri Yuki, who just so happened to be married to Shuichi Shindou.

He understand how the target may see Shindou as a threat if she was as obsessed with Uesugi--or was it Yuki?--as he believed she may be. It was the reason why he had been hired to keep to an eye on the target in the first place. And watch her he did. Watched her walk right out the front door. But why would she go after Shindou now? What did this paternity test have to do with anything?

“I contacted a hacker friend of mine and he tells me that it appears as if the target’s been speaking to a Nami Mataguchi a lot lately.”

“That is?” And he should care…why?

“She’s the owner of The Trinity. It’s a Christian extremist magazine. Religious zealot. Complete nutcase. Ya know, one of those people who claim Harry Potter is evil because it promotes witchcraft and shit like that, but she’s better known for her extreme abhorrence of neutrals. She’s pretty outspoken in her beliefs and doesn’t apologize for them. Lately, she seems to be obsessed with discrediting Shindou.”

K latched onto this eagerly. That was very interesting, especially since Shindou happened to be married to the target’s ex-fiancé. “So you’re saying this whole paternity thing may have been a way to try and discredit him? Maybe cause discord between him and Yuki?”

“That’s what my contact believes.”

K expertly wove in and out of traffic as his mind worked fast and furiously. “You think they’re working together then? The target and this Mataguchi chick?”

“Yes. My contact is almost positive.”

Unfortunately, it made complete sense. He just wished it didn’t. The target has proven to be smarter and more cunning than he’d initially given her credit for. Things could quickly escalate out of control.

K’s curse flooded the silence that had filled the car. “Who’s the closest?”

“D‘Wayne.”

“Get him on the phone.”

“What about his assignment?”

“Reassign it. Cancel it. I don’t care. Get. Him. There. Yesterday.”

“Sir.”

Ending the call, K placed a call to Tohma. “Where’s Shindou,” he demanded without any preamble.

Over the line, Tohma cursed.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Standing guard outside condominium N802, Yutoshi scowled.

This sucked. This sucked big time. As happy as he was that his boss was a father, a desire Kizou was forced to abandon due to circumstances beyond his control, the idea of his boss having said child with Shuichi Shindou of all people made him nauseous. The brat was--was…annoying!

Just when he thought he had rid himself of the incompetence and stupidity of the teenager, said source of constant irritation comes whirling back into his life like a boomerang from Hell.

“Dammit.”

He was cursed. It was the only explanation. He wondered if it was too late to be blessed.

 

* * *

 

In the kitchen, Eiri was making tea for himself, Shuichi and their guest. As he was feeling too lazy to get the good tea mugs down from the top shelf, which any good host would have done, he’d decided to just use the coffee mugs. He did not feel the least bit guilty over their lackluster appearance. Why should he? Cups were cups. What did it matter if they were chipped or stained? Their guest should feel honored that Eiri was feeling gracious enough to offer him something at all.

Eiri was pouring boiling water from the stainless steel teakettle--its bottom was scorched thanks to a certain baka singer--into the three mugs when his son came stampeding into the kitchen. The toddler made a beeline straight for the refrigerator. Stretching up onto his tippy toes, he wrapped a small hand around the handle of the fridge and made a futile reach with the other to the freezer.

Eiri watched his son’s antics with a cocked eyebrow. A smile twisted his lips. “What are you doing?” He kept his voice light and free from accusations. After all, he was merely curious as to what type of mischief the two year old was attempting to get into now.

“Can’t reach.” Little Takanori’s voice came out strained.

“I can see that,” Eiri observed with a light chuckle. When the mugs were filled nearly to the brim with the boiling water, he turned to the stove and set the kettle back down onto the back burner so that it was out of reach of his rambunctious son. “Do you want some help?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He strode across the travertine-tiled floor to the stainless steel refrigerator.

Little Takanori stepped aside as his daddy opened the freezer without any difficulty.

Eiri did not have to ask what it was his son wanted from the freezer. He grabbed a red freezie-pop off the shelve on the door and using a pair of scissors from the butcher block sitting on the counter along the wall besides the sink, he snipped the top off. “Here you go,” he said as he handed the icy treat to the toddler. He tossed the snippet of plastic into the garbage.

With a thank you tossed over his shoulder, little Takanori raced out of the kitchen into the living room where he was watching Blue’s Clues.

At least little Takanori has some manners, Eiri thought with an amused shake of his head as he stepped into the pantry where the tea was kept. There were at least a dozen different varieties to choose from thanks to Shuichi. He decided on herbal, seeing it was the only box opened, and grabbed three teabags. He placed a teabag into each of the mugs, making sure the tag was hanging over the lip of the cup. Instantly, the water began turning a dark amber color. The aroma wafting up out of the mugs was delicious. Placing the mugs onto the whicker tray besides the plate of teacakes they‘d purchased the other day from the bakery located--conveniently--down the street, he weaved his way carefully out of the kitchen.

“-town this weekend,” Kizou was saying.

“We’ve never taken him there,” Shuichi said. He grinned up at his husband as the other man set the tray down on the table.

They exchanged a quick kiss.

“What’re you talking about?” Eiri wanted to know as he pulled out a chair besides Shuichi and sat down.

“Kizou was saying that he wanted to take Takanori to Palettetown this weekend,” Shuichi reiterated as he handed one of the mugs to Kizou and took one for himself.

Eiri eyed the Yakuza. “Is that what you told him at NG?” He grabbed the remaining mug off the tray.

With a shrug, Kizou took a sip of his tea. “This is good.”

Eiri inclined his head in thanks.

“Not really,” Kizou was saying in answer to the question. “I just said that we’d do something cool this weekend.”

“I don’t see why not,” Shuichi said. “I mean he is your son.” He glanced over his shoulder at Eiri for conformation.

Sitting back, Eiri took a sip of his own tea as he contemplated the situation.

Until little Takanori started school in three years (dear God did he really?), which was when they would have to reevaluate the visitation schedule, it had been agreed upon that little Takanori would spent the weekends with Kizou, except when there was a family function or some other planned event, and one day during the week, which would vary depending on Kizou’s schedule. As for the holidays and little Takanori’s birthday, which was in February, they were thinking of joint celebrations for now.

“Whenever you’re in town,” Shuichi had said, “and want to spent time with him, you’re free to do so. I mean, he is your son after all. I’m not going to become one of those parents who refuse their ex access to their own children. Our son deserves to know who his parents are.”

That had Eiri thinking about Shuichi and the parentage that Ryuichi had been keeping from him.

If Eiri wanted to be honest, he was terrified at the idea of sending his two-year-old son off with a man who he has not known for more than a fortnight, a man who was a Yakuza boss and dealt with all types of unsavory characters. Who knows what could happen? Just how safe was his son with this man?

But Shuichi was right. This man, this Rique Kizou, was little Takanori’s biological father and he had every right to see his son. Or did he? He was not sure what the law said about something like this. Did a biological father’s rights supersede those of the adoptive father? Was an adoption negated because the biological father had not been aware that he had a child until after the fact? Or would the biological father be told, “Tough luck”? If Kizou were to petition the court for custody and/or visitation rights because Eiri had gone over Shuichi’s head and told Kizou to fuck off and leave them alone, whose side would the court be on? They could very well lose their son. A cold chill raced down Eiri’s spine. It wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, what would that do to his and Shuichi’s relationship? Eiri snorted. What relationship? Shuichi would boot his ass out of the house so fast, he wouldn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.

Eiri sighed.

His first instinct was to tell Kizou to go to hell. That he was not to go anywhere near his son. As strong as the urge was to keep his son locked up in his room until he was thirty, Eiri knew that would be unfair to both little Takanori as well as to Kizou.

With more effort than he would ever admit, Eiri heard himself agreeing.

“But if you make him cry for anything other than his own stupidity, you will be answering to me,” Eiri promised.

Shuichi gasped. “Eiri!”

Kizou shook his head at the teen. “No, Shu, it’s okay.” He turned towards Eiri. “You have my word. I would give my life to protect my son. Thank you.” He inclined his head in gratitude at the man who’d raised his son for the past two years. It was obvious that Eiri Uesugi loved Takanori very much and thought of the boy as his own. It was also obvious how difficult it was on the other man to agree to allow a virtual strange to spend time, alone, with his son. Kizou was more grateful than he could ever express to be given this chance to get to know his son. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

His violet eyes swimming in unshed tears, Shuichi reached across the table and smiling up at Eiri, clasped their hands together.

Trying to pretend his face wasn’t growing warm, Eiri shrugged indifferently. Honestly, he knew what it was like to be kept in the dark. Even though Shuichi was unaware of it, so did he. Besides, he added, if he were to protest Kizou’s involvement with little Takanori, Shuichi would have his balls on a platter with sashimi, rice and soy sauce.

“Anyway, I was thinking of buying a place here in the city,” Kizou was saying. “It’d be easier when Takanori comes to visit.”

“Oo! That’s a good idea,” Shuichi agreed. “You know, you should talk to Tohma about that. He’s the one who…”

Turning his hand over, Eiri laced his fingers through Shuichi’s and leaning back, took a sip of his rapidly cooling tea as Shuichi and Kizou went on to discuss potential housing options.

This was nice. He was still worried about the safety of his son now that it was known nation wide that he was the child of the leader of the Black Dragons, but for now, being able to sit here and have tea amicably with his husband’s ex-lover was a welcome change from the hostile environment he’d grown up in.

 

* * *

 

**That Night - Uesugi Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

The man who was more commonly known as the father of Eiri Yuki was sitting on the back porch of the house where he’d been forced to raise his three children alone after his tyrannical mother ran Kaoru (2) out of town.

It was something hi mother, Maki Uesugi, had threatened to do when he’d confessed one night at dinner that he‘d had “the audacity” to fall in love with, impregnate and propose to a neutral, but Hideo had never believed she would go through with her threats. His mother was known more for her bark then her bite after all. And he’d been right, or so he’d believed at the time. For when his mother met Kaoru the next night and saw for herself that his intended was in fact pregnant with their first child, a daughter they would name Mika, she turned into a doting future mother-in-law and grandmother-to-be. It wasn’t until he returned home late one night from the temple a month after Eiri and Tatsuha (3) were born to find Kaoru and his things gone did he realize that his mother hadn’t actually accepted the neutral into her family.

The police paid him a visit an hour later. Kaoru, who’d been sick with a severe case of the flu, had been wondering the streets for hours in the middle of a blizzard when witnesses claim he collapsed. He’d been rushed to the hospital, but by the time Hideo arrived, it was too late.

Hideo literally hasn’t spoken a word to his mother since, though that did not stop her from nagging his ear off.

Bitch.

The light breeze whipped his robes about and swept at the gray haze curling from his cigarette.

Leaning sideways against the post, he tipped his baldhead back. They were far enough away from the city to be able to see the night sky twinkling with a sea of stars. It was like diamonds laid out on black velvet. It was breathtaking. Kaoru used to love stargazing, Hideo remembered suddenly. Shaking his head, he sat up, cleared his throat of a mysterious tightness, and blinked his eyes rapidly several times to clear them from an equally mysterious mist.

As he brought his cigarette to his lips, the tranquil silence of the night was shattered by the sudden ringing of the house phone. His hand stilled. He shot a brief glance over his shoulder at the open shoji doors that lead into the tatami room that was off the kitchen.

He did not need to be psychic, or have caller ID, to know who was on the other end of the line or why that person was calling so late at night.

Hideo took a deep drag from his cigarette and ignored the shrill ringing of the phone.

He envied Eiri. His son did what he has never been able to do.

 

* * *

 

**Uesugi Residence - Kanto**

“What is the fool son of mine up to?” head of the Uesugi family Maki Uesugi snapped as the line continued to ring. “Why isn’t he picking up?”

Knowing it was rhetorical, Aki kept her mouth shut. It was difficult. She had a dozen snappish comebacks just waiting in the wings to be let loose. Since she was left washing the dinner dishes, again, she had her back to her mother and settled for just rolling her eyes.

Maybe she should accept Ichiro’s proposal. Her beau of a mere five weeks had proposed the night before. She was glad she hadn’t turned him down. Asking to think about it was turning out to be a good move. Moving to Hokkaido would be a welcome change to the fiery temper that was Maki Uesugi. If her mother was not careful, she would give herself a coronary…God forbid, she remembered to add.

 

* * *

 

**NG Executive Offices - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

He was at a loss.

Sitting in the black leather upholstered chair and leaning forward over his desk with his elbows resting on its surface and his hands held as if in prayer against his lips, Tohma stared blankly at the closed door that lead out into the reception room.

His green amber eyes flickered to the phone.

There really was no evidence to support the theory that Ayaka was coming to Tokyo or that she had some sort of misguided grudge against Shuichi. A theory was just that. A speculation. You could not convict someone on an assumption. Then again, being prepared for when nothing happened was better than not being prepared for when the shit hit the fan.

Lacing his fingers together, Tohma heaved a deep breath into the hollow pit between his cupped hands.

He would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to Shuichi and neither would Eiri. Little Takanori would probably end up becoming K’s protégé and come back to assassinate him as he was having a quiet dinner at home with Mika.

That reminded him. He had to call his wife and tell her he’d be late getting home.

Tohma sighed as he reached for the phone.

 

* * *

 

**Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Chuckling, Eiri stood up from the armchair and wandered his way into the kitchen when the phone started to ring. He was sorely tempted to let the answering machine pick it up. “Hello?” he chuckled into the phone as he turned and watched Kizou chase their son around the coffee table. Shuichi was sitting on the sofa laughing. Eiri felt a twinge of jealousy as he watched the interactions between Kizou and little Takanori. At the same time, he was relieved that the transition had gone so smoothly. As he was only fifteen months, Eiri had to wonder though if his son actually understood all that they’d told him.

“Where’s Shuichi?” demanded the familiar male voice in his ear without any preamble.

Eiri snapped out of his contemplations at the sound of panic in the voice. He pushed away from the counter and walked further into the kitchen. “Why? What’s going on?” he demanded with a frown.

“Eiri please.”

The plea was laced with an urgency that had Eiri’s pulse racing. Something happened. “In the living room.”

There was a sigh and a mumbled, “Thank God.”

“Why?” His question was met with silence. It did nothing for the fear that was starting to rise within Eiri. “Seguchi. What’s going on?”

“…I’m not sure,” Tohma admitted truthfully.

“Seguchi!” He did not believe that for a second.

“I’m not! Just…Just keep Shuichi in the house. I’m sending over guards.”

He did not like this. Not at all. “What the hell is going on Tohma?”

“…You remember that betrothal you turned down?”

Eiri blinked. “To what’s-her-name? Yeah. Why?” What did one have to do with the other?

“Let’s just say there is a very good possibility that she did not take the rejection well.”

No more needed be said.  Eiri swore.

 

* * *

**III**

* * *

**  
**   


**That Same Night - Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan  
**

It was late by the time Masahiro Usami returned home from the temple. Almost immediately, he noticed the family car was gone. The only reminder that a car used to sit in that very spot was the oily stain on the blacktop.

“Huh,” he muttered, “must be a leak.” Masahiro felt strangely detached from the scene before him.

Minus the possible oil leak, the silver Toyota was as close as a five year old car could come to being in “like new” condition. Its near perfect condition was thanks to not only the meticulous tender loving care Masahiro showered the vehicle with, but also from how rarely the car was used. There was no need. Using it when everything was within walking distance was a waste of gas. Even his oldest and dearest friend, Hideo Uesugi, was a quick fifteen-minute bus ride away. One of the only times the car was used was on long road trips. The car not being in its usual spot was therefore unusual, yes, but Masahiro was not worried. It just meant that his wife must have taken it for the day. It would not be the first time, but she usually let him know she was taking it.

“Maybe she left a note,” he decided.

Pushing through the gate, and shutting it firmly behind him, he started up the walk to the house. He hadn’t taken more than a step when out of the corner of his eye something sticking out of the mailbox caught his attention. Curious, he changed course.

“That fool girl!”

That day’s mail had not been collected. There were bills, several magazines his wife subscribed to, and a postcard announcing that there would be a medical refuse collection at the local fire station the following weekend.

“What’s she been doing all day?” he asked. There was an annoyed bite to his voice. “She better not have her face buried in one of those trashy romance novels again,” he grumbled. Normally, his daughter Ayaka was a sweet obedient child, but lately…He was not sure what was wrong with her. She’s been so absentminded as of late and was always on the phone.

Wait a minute. Back up.

Was it possible Ayaka met someone? Was she ready to give up on her childhood dream of marrying Eiri?

He hoped so.

Ayaka was groomed since birth to become the next Mrs. Uesugi and even though their betrothal was arranged, she’d quickly grown to love Eiri. She’d looked forward to becoming his wife, but when she was tossed aside, she’d been completely heartbroken. It’d been impossible to get her out of bed for months afterwards.

Her reaction was understandable. He’d been incensed himself at the callousness shown by his old friend’s son, but he’d tried not to dwell on it--otherwise he would have done something most unfortunate--and as a result was able to move on. After all, it wasn’t as if one failed marriage proposal was the end of the world. He went through several himself before meeting Aiko.

That his daughter had been able to bounce back from such a humiliating and public rejection as well as she had was evidence of how strong his daughter was. He was proud of her.

With the mail in hand, he strode up the walk to the house. Stopping to straighten the small potted fern a neighbor had given to them last week before moving abroad, he climbed onto the porch and strode to the front door. With the customary “I’m home” greeting ready on his lips, he grabbed the doorknob and discovered to his astonishment that the door was locked.

“What?”

Wondering if the door was just stuck, he jiggled the doorknob and pushed on the door, but it remained steadfast.

“Why’d she lock it for?”

As long as someone was home, the door was kept unlocked. It was only locked at night or when there was nobody at the house.

He rapt lightly and waited, but there was nothing but silence, so he knocked again, this time harder. Maybe Ayaka was upstairs or in the bathroom or something. He remembered the layout of his grandmother’s old house was such that if you were in the kitchen it was impossible to hear the front door.

“Ayaka,” he called loudly.

Even banging a fisted hand on the doorframe hard enough to send jolts of pain up his arm produced no results. The house remained as still as ever. He was beginning to wish he had fixed the doorbell last weekend as his wife had wanted him to do instead of pushing it off.

Beginning to grow angry, he muttered, “Where is she?”

“Masa?” a soft voice called from behind him.

Startled, Masahiro wheeled around. “Aiko.” Striding up the walk towards him was his wife. He hadn’t heard her. That was surprising. Had he been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard her pull up? As soon as he thought it, he dismissed it. Personally, he felt it was impossible to be so lost in thought as to not notice someone coming up behind you…well, maybe if you were hard of hearing, but that wouldn’t be considered “lost in thought” though would it. If this had been a movie, a show on television or a book, it would add a measure of suspense to the storyline, but since this was real life, the only times Aiko--or anyone else for that matter--managed to get the drop on him was when he was approached silently. His wife had a tendency to be more silent than a cat. He’d lost count of how many times he’s told her to “make more noise next time” and a car, even a brand new one, made some sort of noise. There was no way he shouldn’t have heard her pull up.

“What are you doing?” Aiko asked her husband, her expression twisted in confusion.

“The door’s locked,” Masahiro said, distracted, as he peered around his wife. He frowned. “Honey, where’s the car?”

Aiko frowned. She glanced over her shoulder. The spot where the car was usually parked, and it had been parked there when she left earlier that afternoon, was empty. “I thought you had it.”

Confusion and unease swirled within Masahiro as he shook his head.

They exchanged a quick panicked look before Masahiro turned back to the door and started banging on it in earnest, shouting out for his daughter to open the door right now, while his wife flew up onto the porch and dug into her purse for her keys. In her haste, she dropped them.

“Hurry!”

“I’m hurrying!”

Her hands were shaking so bad that Aiko found it difficult to fish out her house key from among the key chains, the key fob and the various key tags from shops around town.

Having lost his patience, Masahiro snatched his wife’s keys and unlocked the door. He flung the door open and stepped into the foyer with his wife right behind him. “Ayaka,” he called.

Silence.

He quickly lost his shoes and flung himself into the living room, from there giving the tatami room a quick check before going into the kitchen.

“Masa!” he heard his wife call out to him.

Masahiro abandoned his search of the bathroom. “Did you find her?” were the first words out of his mouth when he raced back into the foyer.

Standing at the antique banquet table they had inherited from his grandmother, Aiko appeared to be gazing at a bamboo bowl that was sitting next to the house phone. “They car keys are gone,” she said. They were usually kept within the bowl. “As are Ayaka’s shoes.”

Masahiro blinked. “What?” For some reason, what his wife was saying made no sense to him.

Aiko turned towards him. “I think Ayaka took the car.”

Masahiro merely blinked again. “But…” He hadn’t even realized that she had her license let alone knew how to drive. It made no sense. It was so out of character. It wasn’t like Ayaka to go running off like that. Why would she take the car without asking or without even letting them know where she was going or when she was going to be back? Had something happened? Had there been some sort of emergency? No. That made no sense. No matter what came up, Ayaka would have left a note. He was certain of it. Ayaka was a good girl. She would never break her poor dear old father’s heart by acting like some sort of hoodlum. No, something must have happened. That was the only way his precious baby girl would have disobeyed him.

By this time, he had worked himself up into a dizzying panic. He was sure something terrible had happened to his baby girl.

“P-police,” he gasped. “We’ve got to call…”

While Aiko clasped her hands together and prayed that nothing serious had befallen her only child, Masahiro called the police to report that their daughter had been kidnapped.

 

* * *

 

**TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo**

Chishin did not want to think about how late it was. These late nights were going to be the death of him. He just knew it. Unfortunately, they could not be helped. He had a television studio to run after all.

“I need a vacation,” he mumbled around a yawn. He scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing he were home in bed.

With a jolt that nearly sent him tumbling onto his ass, the elevator arrived at the ground floor. Regaining his balance, Chishin fixed the strap of his messenger bag that had slid down his arm and stepped away from the back wall. A ping that sounded obnoxiously loud sounded and moments later, the elevator doors slid apart. Covering another yawn, he stepped out of the car and into the grand marble and glass reception hall of TCN studios.

“Night Kinku,” he called as he crossed the lobby towards the front doors. It was a good thing that girl had the next day off. She worked longer hours than he did. Maybe he should look into giving her a raise. Or a promotion.

Isako glanced up briefly from the paperwork she was sorting through for Kinu who worked the front desk the next day. “Night, sir,” she called back before returning to the pile of papers stacked before her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the small square-shaped parcel sitting besides the now silent portable radio. “Oh! Sir! A package came for you earlier!” She jumped out of her seat and grabbing the small package, jogged around the reception desk. Her black high heels made sharp click-clack sounds against the tiled floor. With the shocking revelation of who little Takanori Uesugi’s biological father was and everything else that had been revealed at the press conference earlier that afternoon, she had completely forgotten about the package.

Chishin veered off course and met the young receptionist halfway. The package fit neatly into the palm of his hand. “Thanks.” He gave it a once over before shoving it into his bag. “Night.”

“Night sir,” Isako said.

As Chishin exited the building, he slipped the strap of his bag over his head so it lay across his chest.

The cool night air enveloped him. After the smoldering heat of the day, the cooler temperature was most welcome.

The distant rumble of the highway drifted passed him on the breeze.

He made his way down the street to the parking garage where he‘d parked his car this morning. The blood red Honda was one of the only vehicles on the ground level left. It was parked directly under a light near the security gate.

“Night,” he called to the uniform clad man.

The guard inclined his head in return.

Grabbing his keys out of the side pocket of his bag, he disengaged the car alarm and then unlocked the driver side door using the key fob. A series of beeps echoed into the silent night. He opened the door and lifting his bag over his head, slid in behind the wheel. Settling the bag in his lap, he shut and locked the door. After starting the car, he sat back, staring at the beams of light from his headlights reflected in the glass façade of the building across the street. It was a dentist’s office, he noted absently.

His mind went back to the package.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he reached into his bag and pulled it out. It was so innocuous. Smaller than a baseball. He turned it over. Nothing shifted. Maybe it was a pipe bomb, he thought with a chuckle. The chuckle died. His stomach churned instead. Shaking off the ludicrousness of such a thing, he moved his bag off his lap and into the passenger seat on top of a bunch of files. He unwrapped the standard brown paper encasing the package. There was no return address he noticed. The white cardboard box within would fit a ring case easily.

“Marriage proposal?” He chuckled at that. Better than a bomb sent by some anti-Christian nutcase.

He used his house key to slice through the tape. Inside was a piece of unlined paper folded into a square. He pulled it out. It was laying on a bed of cotton. He cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Pretty elaborate,” he thought. Why not just use an envelope? Or better yet, get his email from the TCN website and send him the message electronically.

Setting the box on his knee, he unfolded the note carefully so as to not tear it. He flipped the switch on his rearview mirror. The light on the underside of the mirror snapped on. Leaning forward, he read the one line in the light.

“Small steps”.

Chishin blinked. What?

Setting the note on the dashboard, he picked up the box and plucked out the cotton.

“Oh. My. God,” he whispered around a racing pulse. Laying there on a second piece of paper was a small bone chip preserved in an airtight container. “Oh. My. God.” His hands shaking, he picked up the bone fragment. It was shaped like an arrowhead and whiter than the cotton. “It can’t be,” he whispered. Tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision. His throat ached.

Setting the box back on his knee, he palmed the airtight container and unfolded the second note. He held it under the dim light emanating from the rearview mirror. As he scanned it, a smile spread across his face. It wasn’t a note, but a copy of an editorial that was going to be in the next issue of The Trinity. “How the Devil Lead Me Astray,” read the headline. The byline underneath read, “By Nami Mataguchi.”

Replacing the bone fragment, he reached into his bag for his cellphone. Opening the address book, he scrolled down until he found her name and then pressed the call button. The line had barely begun ringing when she picked up. “Wanna go grab some coffee?”

Small steps, yes, but steps in the right direction.

 

* * *

 

**Seguchi Residence - Tokyo Midtown Residence - Tokyo**

As once again Mika was to have dinner without her husband, who has been wayward more and more as of late, she decided to scuttle previous dinner plans and order out. She thought briefly of the diet she had decided that morning--thanks to the scale claiming she put on ten pounds--she needed to go on.

“To hell with it,” she decided.

There was always tomorrow.

After digging out the menus from the utility drawer in the kitchen and turning through them one by one, she finally decided on the lemon chicken from Shanghai located right down the street. She made the call and placed her order for delivery.

As she was returning the menus to the utility drawer, the picture of a large square-shaped pizza next to a platter of chicken wings on the front of the menu for Torpedo Pizza caught her attention. Instead of it starting her mouth watering and forcing a grumble from her empty stomach, a wave of nausea rolled through her. She could literally feel the color drain from her face as her stomach rolled and rebelled. Feeling as if she were going to be sick, Mika tossed the menus aside and raced to the bathroom. The water closet off the foyer being the nearest, she veered towards it. She made it just in time.

Something told her this was all Tohma’s fault.

 

* * *

 

**A Couple Hours Later - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

A silver Toyota was parked along the curb in the shadows. The engine was idling. Behind the wheel was a nineteen-year-old girl. Her long mousy brown hair flowed freely down her back and her light brown eyes were filled with disgust and loathing as she watched a black limo pull away from the curb in front of the Koishikawa Park Tower and drive off down the street, vanishing from view as it turned the corner.

With the limo gone, the teenager standing on the sidewalk who she knew was eighteen, a year younger than she was, but looked only sixteen, came into view. In his arms was a sleeping child. Her harsh features softened as she took in the toddler’s chubby features and the mused jet-black hair. She wondered if she’d be able to get him to call her mama. Wouldn’t that be nice? She’d always wanted to be a mother. The revulsion she felt for the singer returned tenfold as her gaze shifted from the child to the slight protrudence that was the singer’s belly. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. She bared her teeth.

Beside the object of her hatred was her fiancé. She glared at the arm he had draped in an almost protective nature around the smaller man’s shoulders.

He was dead! Dead!

And her chance came. Shuichi stepped out from under Eiri’s arm and turned towards him. He said something to Eiri, which she could not hear for they were too far from where she lay in wait, but she could guess what was said as her betrothed nodded and took the sleeping child from Shuichi. This was it! Shifting the car into gear, she slammed her foot on the accelerator. The car pulled away from the curb like a shot. Heedless of the traffic and pedestrians, Ayaka Usami aimed her father’s car straight at Shuichi Shindou.

“Die,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

 

* * *

 

**Aizawa Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

With a whicker basket of white, baby blue, lemon yellow and black yarn at her side, Oharu Aizawa was sitting on the sofa watching a rerun of her favorite show while trying to finish the baby blanket she was making for her niece’s baby shower that was this weekend. Her husband was in his usual place reading the newspaper and completely ignoring the television. She had no idea how he was able to do that.

“The same way you can knit and pay attention to the TV at the same time,” was what he once told her.

When the phone rang, her hands stilled. She frowned. The click clacking of the silver knitting needles silenced, she spared a quick glance at the clock on the side table. Who could that be so late? She exchanged a glance with her husband who was peering at her from behind a folded down corner of the newspaper. From the look on his face, he hadn’t a clue either.

Untangling the yarn from around her hands, Oharu set her work aside and crossed the living room to the foyer where the cordless phone extension was sitting on the sideboard. “Hello?” she breathed softly into the mouthpiece.

“…Uhm…hello,” spoke the soft female voice hesitantly over the line. “…I’m…I’m sorry for calling so late…but…uhm…is this the Aizawa residence?”

“Yes it is,” she confirmed. At the sound behind her, Oharu glanced over her shoulder. It was her husband.

“Who is it?” he mouthed.

She shrugged.

“…This is…Are you Taki’s…uhm…Did you-?”

Oharu latched onto her son’s name. Her grip on the phone tightened. “Did you know my son Miss?” For some reason, her pulse started racing.

There was a heavy sigh over the line. “Yes, yes I did,” the woman said. She sounded more confident. “That’s…that’s actually why I called…uhm…Do you think…Tomorrow…That is…”

“Are you alright miss? Does this have to do with my son?”

“…Actually…it does.”

Oharu held her breath.

“Look, uhm, your son and I…we had a…a…thing for a…for some time and…we had a falling out and…well…I never told him because I was angry at him for being…well…for being Taki and…and…and well…”

Oharu was hard pressed to make any sense out of what she was hearing. “I don’t understand. Did you use to date my son?”

She felt her husband snap to attention behind her.

“…Sort of. Look, Mrs. Aizawa, the thing is…” There was another heavy sigh over the line. “Is there a time when we can meet?”

Oharu blinked. “Does it concern my son?”

Masato drew nearer.

“Yes.”

“How about tomorrow afternoon? Will that work?”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

She relayed her address before saying goodbye and hanging up.

“What was that about? What did she say about Taki?” her husband demanded.

Oharu shook her head. “I’m not sure. She said she had something she needed to discuss with us about Taki and that she couldn’t do it over the phone.”

Masato frowned, his forehead lined in thought.

 

* * *

 

**Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

Mai Shindou had read about this happening in countless books. It had become such a commonplace phrase to use in fiction that it had since lost its effectiveness. The shock impact it used to convey was lost. It cannot be used without people rolling their eyes at such unoriginality or without the spelling/grammar check on the computer highlighting it as being cliché. Please consider using the following instead. Never had she once imagined that such a cliché impossibility could actually become possible, let alone be witness to such an event when she left the safety of her house in Kyoto earlier that day.

But here she was.

Time seemed to stop for a mere instant, but an instant was all that was needed. She stood frozen on the sidewalk. Her heart lay silent within her chest. Her breath frozen within her lungs. Her mind was blank. She could do nothing but stare at the scene unfolding before her.

When the instant dissolved, time did not return to its normal pace. In fact, it actually seemed to be playing reality at half speed. Like in those numerous books she’d read, it was as if she had all the time in the world to snap herself out of her stupor and tear down the street, pushing rudely passed the pedestrians that were hampering her ability to get to where she knew she had to be, but she pressed on.

She was not going to make it in time!

There was utter chaos around her. So many people were yelling and scrambling to get out of the way of the car careening out of control. Not her though. She was heading straight into the heart of the turmoil. She had to. There was no other option. It was her duty as a mother, as a grandmother, as a human being.

Her honey colored hair had come free of its restraint and was streaming out behind her and her bronzite eyes were wide in fear. Her breath was coming out in panting breathes. There was a stitch in her side.

When time slowed down, hope was borne within her. She believed she had all the time in the world to shout to her son and push him out of the way of the white--or was it silver?--car with a flying tackle she’d learned from watching American football, something that her husband had recently become obsessed with.

Her belief was justified.

The last image she had was of her son, her precious baby boy, laying sprawled out on the sidewalk surrounded by a contingent of black clad men and women who had appeared from out of nowhere.

“Thank God,” she whispered before her body exploded in pain. She was smiling when the nothingness claimed her.

 

**…To Be Continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Actual radio station here in Buffalo, NY (it’s a Catholic radio station).
> 
> (2) I mentioned in “Street of Dreams” that Eiri’s mother’s name was Kazuki. That was his last name obviously. Hideo and Kaoru weren’t legally married because neutrals did not have the right to marry at the time.
> 
> (3) Remember, Eiri and Tatsuha are fraternal twins in this story


	10. To Live Happily Ever After, The Bitch Must Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inserts: quote from Angels & Demons, Section from “A Boy Named Sara”

**Chapter 10: To Live Happily Ever After, The Bitch Must Die**

**The Next Day - Seiryu Memorial Hospital - Tokyo**

Shuichi was numb. His usually tan complexion was pale, his face sticky with the residue of dried tears. His amethyst eyes, red and puffy, were dull and lifeless. Vaguely, he was aware of the black suited men following him as he ambled listlessly through the hospital, but he ignored them just as he‘d ignored everybody else. It was easy to make himself forget their presence. What good had they been anyway? Tohma had sent them to protect him and his family from a possible threat, but in the end, they’d done absolutely nothing as that car had careened towards him. No, it’d been his mother who’d come flying to his rescue.

The pain that had simmered to a dull ache came roaring back. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

This late at night--or was it: this early in the morning?--the sterile winding halls of the hospital were eerily silent. It was deserted like a ghost town. For that he was grateful. Right now, he just wanted to grieve for his mother without having countless strangers coming up to him hugging him and patting his shoulder saying how sorry they were for his loss.

Even now that incessant buzzing followed him no matter how far from the ER he strolled. He could still hear it echoing in his head mingling with Maiko’s screams, his father’s stunned expression and Ryuichi’s silent tears.

He wasn’t sure where any of them were and he didn’t particularly care.

As he approached another junction, the low murmur of male voices could be heard. Even though he could not make out what was being said, he recognized the speakers. They sounded like Eiri and Tohma.

He hadn’t even known they’d left the ER.

“Are you absolutely sure it was Ayaka Usami?”

Shuichi came to an immediate halt. Usami? Where had he heard that name before? His brow scrunched in thought. Usami. Usami. Wait. Wasn’t that the chick Eiri’s father tried to get him to marry? Why were they talking about her? His pulse started racing. Did she have something to do with the accident?

“Yes.”

Shuichi crept forward and peered around the corner.  It _was_ Eiri and Tohma.  Eiri looked livid.  Of course, Tohma looked like his same nonchalant self.  Shuichi could not remember ever seeing Tohma not levelheaded.

“I looked right as her Tohma. Right at her!”

“I have my people on it, Eiri,” Tohma was saying in his usual calm voice. “We will find her.” He sounded so sure. There was no doubt in his voice. “She won‘t be able to get far with all of Japan looking for her. Don’t worry.”

Eiri fisted his hands. His brother-in-law’s certainty did little to ease the anger surging through him. “‘Don’t worry’? How can I not?! She tried to kill Shuichi!”

Shuichi froze.

What?

This…She…No. No. It can’t be. It…

He staggered backwards until his back hit the wall. The jolt snapped him out of his stunned stupor. Wrapping his arms around his belly, he slid down the wall to the floor as the dam broke and a flood of tears coursed down his face.

Ayaka Usami killed his mother.

“I’ll kill her,” he sobbed as a rush of fury swept over him. “If I ever get my hands on that stupid cunt bitch I’ll make her regret the day she was born!” That was a promise.

 

* * *

 

**A Month Later - Early Morning - Mataguchi Residence - Avan Minami-Aoyama Manor - Tokyo**

Sitting at the table in her small yet efficient apartment with her back to the kitchen, Nami Mataguchi was staring blankly out the sliding glass doors. She did not see the forest of greenery that was her balcony or the endlessly blue summer sky with the intermittent wispy cloud. She heard the distant rumble of traffic. Occasionally the obnoxiously loud roar of a vehicle cut over the rest as if it were a contest to see who can annoy the rest of humanity the most. There was the chatter of people coming and going and the barking of a dog. She watched, but not really taking it in, as a bird perched itself on the railing of her balcony for only a moment before taking flight.

A light breeze flowed into the apartment through the open balcony doors. It trailed across her face like a lover’s hand, but did little to ease the stifling oppression that filled the apartment; the air conditioner was broken.

In her hands was a white ceramic teacup. The floral aroma tickled her senses. She lifted the cup and took a delicate sip. The warmth of the tea spread through her.

“Tokyo police are still on the lookout for nineteen year old Ayaka Usami of Kyoto.”

The cup’s downward motion halted halfway. Nami turned towards the television sitting on the sideboard across the room.

“She’s wanted for questioning regarding the hit and run accident that killed Mai Shindou last month. The forty-nine year old homemaker leaves behind her husband of twenty-eight years Morihiro Shindou and three children--thirty-two year old Ryuichi Sakuma of Nittle Grasper, eighteen year old Shuichi Shindou of Bad Luck and who may have been the intended target, and sixteen year old Maiko Shindou from Seikeitsu High in Kyoto--and one grandson.

“Witnesses at the scene of the accident claim the car _deliberately_ aimed for eighteen year old front man Shuichi Shindou--who confirmed reports just last week that he is indeed pregnant with twins.”

A pre-recorded interview replaced the gray-haired anchorman. The caption at the bottom of the screen stated the man was Yatsutora. He did not appear to be more than twenty years old. “And this lady,” he was saying, “she just, like, appeared from outta nowhere and pushed the kid out of the way. I didn‘t realize until later that it was Shuichi Shindou. That lady saved his life.”

“Reports say the force of the impact sent Mrs. Shindou flying over sixty feet. She succumbed to her injuries in the early morning hours at Seiryu Memorial Hospital with her family by her side,” the anchorman was saying over the silent images of the chaos that had enfolded at the scene following the accident.

A man dressed in monk robes popped on the screen. The caption at the bottom of the screen said, “Masahiro Usami”.

“Ayaka’s father,” Nami whispered. This had to difficult for both him and his wife. Ayaka was their only child.

“Ayaka is a good girl. She would never do something like this. Never! These accusations are ludicrous and baseless.”

Nami snorted. Having worked for the younger woman, she had firsthand knowledge of this so-called “good girl”. The only baseless accusations being made about Ms. Ayaka Usami were the ones being spewed by her father, but then again that seemed to be parents’ prerogative. No matter how much evidence piles up to the contrary, their child was always innocent and would never hurt a fly. “Bull. Shit.”

A picture of Ayaka flashed across the screen. “Ayaka Usami is five-foot-four, one-hundred-fifteen pounds with long brown hair and brown eyes. She was last seen driving a 2005 silver Toyota that police say would have massive front-end damage.

“If you have any information please contact the Tokyo police at…And remember, you can always remain anonymous.”

Torn, Nami’s gaze traveled to the cellphone that was sitting on the counter behind her and bit her lip.

 

* * *

 

**Kyoto Cemetery - Kyoto, Japan**

His father had completely ignored his presence, which had been just fine with Shuichi. This had given him the space to grieve for his mother in peace. Though if truth be told, there had been a small part of him that had hoped they could work things out, have some sort of relationship, if for nothing more than for his mother. Guess that had been too much to hope for.

It hadn’t been up for debate. There hadn’t been any question or doubt about them attending the funeral or not and it had nothing to do with Mai Shindou giving her life to save him and unborn grandchildren. Her sudden appearance at the scene that night had been like that of a superhero arriving just in time to save the day. It hadn’t been out of a sense of gratitude or seen as an obligation that could be done without. It would have been childish and immature to blow off her funeral just because there hadn’t been any communication between them in years. They may have had their problems, yes, maybe even hated one another to a degree, but in the end, she was still his mother and Shuichi would always love her.

Despite his father’s continued cold shoulder, the rest of the extended family had welcomed not just Shuichi but his husband, son and--reluctantly--even Kizou.

Eiri had turned the entire family into fangirls. They all had a good laugh over this later--everyone but Eiri that is who still had that tick he developed when he was annoyed. Eiri personally had liked it better when they’d been disowned from their respective families.

Everyone had fawned over and nearly suffocated to death poor little Takanori who had been so overwhelmed at meeting so many new people at once.

Shuichi himself had been a little overwhelmed as he had been pampered over the entire time. His great grandmother had smacked him upside the head for being involved with a mob boss then turned around and said that he “did well”. He was still not sure what that was supposed to mean.

Maiko had been a complete mess. She’d always been closer to their mother than he had been.

Because it had been decided that they would stay in Kyoto the entire month, she roped them into helping to finish the nursery. Apparently, she was having a boy. Thankfully, their father hadn’t been home much during the time they were there. Unexpected overtime or so Maiko claimed.

As for his mother, Mai Shindou’s ashes were interred here in the Kyoto Cemetery besides her parents who had passed away several years back a year and a day apart.

With his head bowed, Shuichi was kneeling before her grave. His amethyst eyes were shut, but the tears were not deterred. They coursed freely. His lips were moving in silent prayer.

Shuichi was not a religious man, but he wasn’t not religious either. In a way, he was agnostic--not really sure one way or another. On the other hand, he was pantheism--the belief that God and the material world are one and the same thing and that God is present in everything.

He was not sure if there was such a thing as God, or if the concept of God--whether referring to the God (if one existed) or multiple gods--was just invented by early man as a way to explain the unexplainable, but if there was, he was more likely to believe God was something akin to the Force--“energy that flows through the synapses of our nervous system and the chambers of our hearts” as he heard it once described. It’s the man behind the curtain, as it were, the cause of the Big Bang. Thus, it created the universe and continues to help it expand. It helped give life to the planet, from carving out rivers and valleys and forming mountain ranges and growing the forests. It was what caused hearts to beat, hair to grow, lips to smile, noses to breath, tongues to taste, eyes to see, hands to feel, and legs to walk.

His belief in God may be tumultuous, but he was sure of his belief in life after death; whether that be reincarnation, Heaven, or something else entirely he could not say, but he had to believe that death was not the end. He had to believe that life continued after the physical body turned to dust and the mourners left, the tears stopped, the gaping hole the deceased left in the heart and souls of those left behind filled in, the flowers wilted and died, tombstones became overgrown with grass and weeds, and memories faded until finally the only reminder that the person had actually existed was an old photograph in a photo album tucked away in the back of the closet. To believe in life after death was to believe that his mother was still alive. That she was not truly gone, but had just gone on to something better.

Shuichi dropped his head into his hands and sobbed quietly.

 

* * *

 

Eiri stood a little ways back from his husband with an unusually silent Takanori in his arms. If it wasn’t for the fact that his son weighed just under a ton, it would have been easy to forget he had a child in his arms. Little Takanori was never this still or this quiet, not even when he was sleeping.

He pushed aside his own tears and tried to ignore the aching in his throat and the tightening in his chest. As he’d never met the woman, it was difficult for him to mourn the passing of his mother-in-law (grandmother-in-law?). That was not to say he felt nothing at her sudden and tragic death, for it was impossible to not feel something, some sympathy at least, but it was impossible to have or feel the level or depth of emotions as someone who’d actually known and spent time with the deceased.

What had his heart aching as it did was seeing what the death of Mai Shindou was doing to her son.

“Why Mama cry?”

The question was so innocent, but Eiri was fighting back a renewal of tears because of it. The ghostly ache in his throat became painful as the fight to keep his sobs at bay grew tougher.

Out of the mouth of babes, he thought with a wave of sorrow.

How was a parent supposed to discuss something like this with his child, especially when said child was so young? Little Takanori was only two years old. Come February, he would be three. How could you explain death to a child in a way that he would understand?

It took several tries for Eiri to be able to say, “Mama’s sad.” Even then, the short phrase came out in a hoarse whisper. It physically hurt to speak those two simple but meaningful words. The effort to expel them had him feeling winded and left his throat stinging and raw, almost as if those words had been surrounded by thorns as they traveled up his throat and out of his mouth.

He’d expected his son to ask why Mama was sad, but instead, little Takanori started fidgeting and squirming. As he was hard pressed to hold onto him, Eiri gently lowered his son to the ground, who took off running to Shuichi before his feet hit the ground.

There was the sound of crunching of gravel behind him. He did not need to look to know who it was.

“Hey,” greeted the soft-spoken voice.

Not trusting his voice to not come out in an embarrassed squeak, Eiri merely nodded, making a noise of acknowledgment.

“How’s he doing?”

Eiri never noticed it before, but Kizou had a slight accent. He wondered if it was more perceptible when the man was emotional.

As he considered how to answer that question, he watched his husband and their son.

With his legs folded beneath him, Shuichi was sitting before his mother’s grave with little Takanori sitting in his lap facing him. His golden eyes were riveted on his mother’s face as the man spoke to him quietly. Eiri wondered what his husband was saying to their son.

“Holding up,” he finally said. It was true enough. Shuichi had his good days and then there were the bad days. Sometimes it was hard to get Shuichi out of bed. Other times Shuichi locked himself away in his studio. There were days when Shuichi would cry for hours or he would burst into tears seemingly at random moments. Other days Shuichi wouldn’t shed a tear. Occasionally, Shuichi acted as if he’d finally been able to move passed her death, smiling and laughing. Eiri wasn’t sure if the emotional rollercoaster was because Shuichi was in mourning or if it was due to the pregnancy hormones.

“I’m sure he feels guilty.”

Eiri nodded.

“When we were together,” Kizou continued, “he never spoke about either of his parents unless I asked him and even then it was like…” Pulling teeth, he thought, would have been easier than getting him to speak about his family. “Trying to talk to him was like trying to reason with a rabid animal.”

Guess Shuichi hadn’t really changed all that much. Even after they received that card not long after Shuichi was kicked out of the house and disowned by his father, Shuichi hadn’t said much about his parents. Eiri tried to bring it up once or twice, but Shuichi would just shrug and change the subject. What Eiri did know was that Shuichi’s father thought of him as a “freak” for being a neutral and that the man hadn’t had the slightest interest in his son’s life. Even little Takanori’s birth had gone unnoticed. Mr. Shindou doted on his daughter and stepson though…well, had doted on his stepson until said stepson disowned them as his parents. That move had actually helped Shuichi move passed the painful knowledge that he was no longer needed by them.

As for his mother, Shuichi never talked about her now that Eiri thought about it. Eiri didn’t know much about their relationship. He knew she refused to acknowledge that Shuichi was a neutral; she’d been in denial about that, but Eiri could not remember if he’d heard that from Shuichi or if someone else had told him.

“He talked about Ryuichi Sakuma a lot though.”

That Shuichi did.

“I overheard him and Narata--he’s….” Subordinate? Employee? “…my assistant--talking once. He said that Sakuma was ‘more of a father than’ his father had ever been.”

Eiri believed that.

“But despite how he may have felt for them or he for them, they are his parents and knowing that his mother died saving his life…? That he never had the chance to work things out or patch things up with her?” Kizou shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”

The two men watched as their son stood up and turned around to face his grandmother‘s grave. Behind him, Shuichi stood up on his knees and lightly traced his mother’s name that had been etched onto the grave marker. Eiri saw his husband’s lips move, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

When Shuichi pulled back, little Takanori stepped forward and kissed the white pillar where he’d just seen his mother touch.

The sight was too much for Kizou. It forced him to turn around and walk away a pace so he could gather himself. He tipped his head back and blinked rapidly several times, holding them open wide in an attempt at keeping the tears from falling and took deep breaths to loosen the tightness in his chest and dispel the ache in his throat.

Eiri smiled through the burn of tears at the sight.

 

* * *

 

Swiping at his falling tears, Shuichi pushed to his feet and held out a hand to his son while the other gently rubbed his rapidly expanding belly. “Come on,” he sniffed. “Let’s go see Daddy.”

Little Takanori took his mama’s hand and as he allowed his mama to guide him away to where his daddies were waiting, he turned around to look back at the skinny stone where Mama said Grandma was sleeping. “Bye-bye,” he waved.

Violet eyes swimming in a well of tears, Shuichi gave the smaller hand within his a gentle squeeze. When little Takanori gazed up at him, he smiled down at him. “I don’t know about you, but Mama is starving to death here. Where should we go?”

He watched the two year old’s face light up. It was more like an explosion of exhilaration. “Bugger King,” little Takanori cried, bouncing along besides him.

Shuichi chuckled lightly. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Cheering loudly, Little Takanori dropped his hand and tore through the cemetery to his daddies to tell them the excellent news.

Shuichi laughed after him.

He stepped into the main aisle and paused to glance one last time at his mother’s final resting place. What his mother was doing there in Tokyo that night, nobody seemed to know. Had she come to express her outrage at how he was once again bringing embarrassment to the Shindou name? To confront him? Or had she been there to try to work things out between them? Either way, he would never know for certain now and that was worse than knowing that she was no longer just a phone call away.

Turning away, he brushed at the annoying trickle of tears and started down the aisle to where Eiri waited. It was time to go home.

 

* * *

 

**Seguchi Residence - Tokyo Midtown Residence - Tokyo**

Mika was a nervous wreck. She was hoping for the best, but expecting the worse. This was not the first time she’s found herself in the position she was currently in. She lost count of how many times she’s been wrecked by this same nervous expectation, hoping against hope that it would be this time. Unfortunately, despite her fervent wishing and praying, the countless threats and rivers of tears, the desire she and her husband of nearly a decade have held onto, regardless of the evidence that continued to stack up against it, was dashed time and again. Though she knew not to get her hopes up--the higher they were held, they longer the drop inevitably was--she had to hope this time was going to be different. She just had to.

And so, she paced.

From the front door, through the foyer and into the living room to Tohma’s office, then back out through the living room and up to the second floor, passed the four bedrooms, the master suite and the bathroom and back downstairs into the kitchen, around to the dining room and into the back bedroom, passed the downstairs bathroom, the utility room and back out through the dining room and kitchen to the backdoor. Then she would turn around and make her way back through the house to the front door. From there she would begin the cycle all over again.

She was making herself dizzy and yet she refused to stop. She did not want to stop for if she were to she would begin the “what if” game. What if she was? What if she wasn’t?

Feeling nauseous, Mika was trooping down the stairs for what felt like the millionth time when the silence of the house was shattered by the ringing of the phone

Nearly tripping down the carpeted stairs in her haste, she flew into the kitchen.

“Hello?” she panted into the phone.

“Good morning. This is Dr. Yamashita from T-U Family Practice calling for Mika Uesugi,” said the calm, professional voice.

“This is she,” Mika confirmed breathlessly. Her heart was suddenly racing a mile a minute and it had nothing to do with the 100-meter dash she just completed.

“Hello, Mrs. Uesugi. Your tests results came back.”

Experience told her not to, but Mika held her breath and prayed. Please. Please. Please, she chanted.

“I believe congratulations are in order. You are pregnant.”

She was not sure how she’d suspected she might react to the news of a pregnancy. Quiet, calm acceptance? Exaltation? Shock and disbelief? What she got was a well of tears that stung her eyes and blurred her vision before they spilled down her cheeks. Her free hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sobs aching to be let loose. A fine trembling shook her, which she could not seem to stop. When her legs threatened to give out, she had to lean back against the counter to keep from collapsing into a puddle of jelly on the floor. A well of happiness swelled within her. She couldn’t quite believe it. It was too good to be true. She hoped she was not dreaming. If she was, she did not want to wake up. “Are…are you sure?” she whispered.

“Positive.”

“Oh,” she sobbed.

“Five weeks to be exact.”

Mika slid to the floor. She did not know what to say--not that she could. She was too overwhelmed to speak.

This certainly was a dream come true.

“I would like you to come in in two weeks, if that‘s doable, for a routine check up.”

Mika was nodding. Not trusting herself to speak just yet, she made an affirmative noise and hoped the doctor would understand.

Dr. Yamashita seemed to for she laughed lightly. “Congratulations again. I know you and your husband have waited a long time for this.”

That was an understatement, she thought. “Thank you so much,” Mika whispered aloud.

“You’re welcome my dear. Now, if you can hold for a sec, I’ll transfer you to Janus alright?”

She was nodding again. “Certainly,” she forced herself to say.

“You have a good day.”

“You too,” she returned automatically.

Soft music trickled over the line.

“I knew it was all his fault,” she whispered happily, remembering that day a month ago. Never before had she felt this elated. Today was a good day.

 

* * *

 

**NG Productions - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

He knew he should be paying attention, but Tohma found his attention wavering. It has been like this all month. He could not seem to get any work done. His mind kept replaying the phone calls he’d received as he’d been pacing his office late that night.

The first one had been from K. “We arrived too late,” his assassin for hire had told him.

He’d barely had time to process what that could possibly mean when the second phone call came. This time it’d been from Eiri.

It was all his fault. His fault!

Maybe if he would have just informed Eiri sooner about the possible threat…

If the guards he’d assigned to guard his brothers-in-law had arrived sooner…

If he’d gone over there himself…

If…

If…

If…

Looking back on what he could have done differently was slowly driving him crazy!

And to make matters worse, the crazy bitch was still out there somewhere.

Tohma was grateful for the reprieve when a light knock sounded on the conference room door, interrupting the mindless arguing that had been going on for the last half an hour. He may not have been paying particular attention to any of it, but it was still giving him a massive migraine. The door opened silently and his secretary poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Seguchi,” Nanako apologized with a sheepish expression, “but you have a phone call.”

Tohma sat back with a frown. Nanako knew never to interrupt him during a meeting unless it was important. His heart starting beating faster. He wondered. “Who is it?” His voice came out steady, strong, and almost bored sounding, nothing like how he was feeling.

All heads within the conference room turned to watch the exchange between his secretary and him as if they were at a tennis match.

“All he would say was that you’d told him to call you if anything substantial came in?” She made the statement a question and looked apologetic, as if she had failed to fulfill a request so simple even a child could complete it.

Tohma’s demeanor stiffened. He knew exactly who it was she was referring to. “Thank you, Nana. I’ll be there momentarily.” It was a trial to speak normally as if this was routine, even though it was anything but.

“Sir.” With that, she exited the conference room, shutting the door behind her.

“What was that all about Seguchi?” asked someone from his left.

Tohma did not ignore him on purpose. His mind was elsewhere. It was already upstairs in his office.

Pushing his chair back, he stood up. “Gentlemen, if you’d excuse me, I must take this. Why don’t we take a little break and continue this in say…half an hour?” Without waiting for a reply, he hurried out of the conference room. Raised voices followed him out.

Deciding it would be quicker to take the stairs rather than the elevator, Tohma raced up the five flights to his executive suite while trying to look as if he wasn’t hurrying. He had no idea if he’d pulled it off. Part of him did not care either way. Some things were more important than modesty, decorum and what people thought when they saw the lead keyboardist for one of the nation’s hottest bands and the CEO of a record label that had become more of a household name than Google racing through the halls like a lunatic. This would be one of them.

He burst into his office and snatched up the phone. “Tell me you found her,” he demanded without any preamble.

“We just received a tip from someone who says she may be hiding out in Honshu.”

Tohma frowned. “Honshu?”

“Apparently, Mrs. Usami and her brother inherited ten acres of land five years ago when their childless aunt died. The old family homestead burned down seventy-five years ago when lightening struck the house and instead of rebuilding, the family moved to Kyoto, but the land still remains in the family. I know the area. My cousin lives around there. There’s nothing around for miles. It would be a perfect place to disappear.”

Tohma didn’t like it. If there was nothing there, not even the old family home, then why would Ayaka go there? Even if it was in the middle of nowhere, it was still land her family owned. It would be folly to think of it as a place to lay low, at least for more than a day or so, but it was a lead, which was more than they’d had half an hour ago. Despite the lack of it being the ideal location to disappear when you had the entirety of Japan--and most assuredly several nations outside of Japan--after you, Tohma was hoping Ayaka Usami was just that moronic. “Thank you Sergeant.”

 

* * *

 

**That Afternoon - Aizawa Residence - Kyoto, Japan**

The anniversary of their son’s tragic accident came and went and the Aizawas had been forced since to accept, thanks to a DNA paternity test, that Little Takanori was not their grandson. The news had been beyond devastating. It had been like reliving the loss of their son all over again. A wound that was not fully healed was easily reopened, but a phone call from a woman who claimed to have dated their son for a short time six years ago changed everything.

Oharu glanced down at the five year old who was skipping along besides her and singing softly a song she did not recognize. She tightened her grip on the small hand within hers. Raising her gaze, she smiled at her husband who was holding the girl’s other hand. Tears misted her vision.

“Can we get ice cream Grandma?”

Blinking back her tears, Oharu smiled down at her granddaughter. “But of course!”

“You spoil her too much Grandma.” Though Masato scolded his wife, his tone was light. There was a twinkle in his eye.

“Well that’s what Grandmas are for,” she said haughtily. “Right Mizuna?”

“Right,” the five year old agreed.

“Well,” Masato sighed heavily, “it looks like I’ve been outvoted.”

Mizuna freed her hands from her grandparents grasps and tossing her hands into the air, began jumping around and cheering loudly.

Masato and Oharu laughed at her antics.

Little Takanori had looked nothing like their son. At times, Oharu had found herself questioning whether he was even an Aizawa. Of course as that had been kin to sacrilege, she’d quickly shaken those negatives thoughts aside. So what, she’d scold herself, if he looked nothing like her son. It doesn’t mean anything. You need not be a clone to be related to someone. She and her sisters looked nothing alike. It always took people by surprise when she told them that they were indeed siblings. Her younger half-sister looked more like her oldest sister than her older sister looked like her.

Now she knew she should have listened to those nagging doubts.

This time, it was different. Mizuna was the spitting image of their son. Their resemblance was such that at times, it forced her to relive the moment three years ago when she found a police officer at her doorstep, but she would not have it any other way. For with this child, their son had been reborn.

 

* * *

**II**

* * *

**  
**   


**Honshu**

It may have taken a month and a tip from one of Tohma’s contacts within the Tokyo police, but K was finally able to track down the target. It wouldn’t have taken as long as it had if he would have considered the possibility that the target would not only still be driving around Japan in the same car she used to plow down Mrs. Shindou, but had decided to hide out in such an obvious of places. He had actually come across mention of this parcel of abandoned land awhile back, but had dismissed it as a ludicrous possibility.

“I take it back. She’s not as smart or cunning as I first thought she was,” K said.

You would think someone who was wanted by the authorities regarding the vehicular murder of a fifty-year-old homemaker--and not just any ordinary homemaker at that, but the mother to Shuichi Shindou and Ryuichi Sakuma, two of the hottest singers in Japan--would have dumped the car somewhere along the line.

Oh, well.

He was not about to start complaining now.

Lying among the waist high grass on top of a hill under a dead tree better suited to a haunted house than the countryside, K peered through the scope of his M-24 down at the target in the valley below as she paced around the damaged Toyota, biting her nails.

The target appeared to be apprehensive--scared. That was when they were the most dangerous.

“Target is in sight, sir,” K breathed into his Bluetooth headset. “Should I take the shot?”

 

* * *

 

**NG Executive Office - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

Sitting back, Tohma rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and lacing his fingers together, rested his steepled forefingers against his lips. There was no doubt about it. Ayaka Usami had to die. She deserved to after everything she put his family through. But was acting on his need for revenge worth it? Of course it would be. But would it not be better to bring her in? Let justice do its thing? But what if she was acquitted? Or got a reduced sentence? What if she was found to be mentally unfit to stand trial and was remanded to some state facility somewhere until she was medicated back to health? The bitch would be back on the streets a free woman instead of rotting in prison for the rest of her life. On the other hand, if he gave K the go ahead, which Tohma was leaning towards doing, then wouldn’t the truth go with her?

 

* * *

 

**Honshu**

His finger twitching restlessly over the trigger, K watched the target through the scope mounted to his M-24 with a frown. “Just what are you up to?” he whispered as the target pulled a cellphone out from a hidden pocket in her skirt. “Who are you calling?”

 

* * *

 

**La Verde Café - Setagaya, Tokyo**

Nami Mataguchi was not sure she would ever change her opinion of neutrals, but learning to let go of her bigotry, to be more tolerant and open-minded, to love her neighbors, to do unto others as she would have them do unto her and to drop the fistful of stones was helping to bring her closer to God. It was helping her become an even better Christian. After all, it was her mother--who had desired to become a nun when she was a child, but had been talked out of it by her parents--who taught her that God was an unbiased God. She told her that there was one alone who was allowed to judge the actions of man and that was God. God loved everyone equally, including those who man found to be undesirable.

 _“Live by Jesus’ example,”_ her mother told her on the day of her confirmation and that was exactly what Nami was determined to do. Jesus had accepted everyone into His fold, including a prostitute. Who was she to turn her back to someone He would have welcomed with open arms?

She did not want to have to try to explain to God on Judgment day about the hate that filled her heart.

“Is that your phone?” asked her male companion.

“Huh?” Nami cocked her head and listened and sure enough, she heard it, a soft buzzing sound. “Oh!” She pulled her clutch into her lap and dug out her phone. As it continued to vibrate in her hand, she glanced at the name on the display screen. With only the slightest hesitation, she pressed ignore and tossed her phone back into her purse.

“Who was it?”

Nami shrugged as she reached for her condensation-coated glass. “Wrong number.” She took a sip of her water before continuing. “So, Chishin, what did you do with that Artifact I sent you?” she asked just as their server arrived with their meals. Her mouth started watering at the aroma.

As her old friend started telling her about having framed the bone fragment in a shadow box and keeping it in his office for the time being until the shrine his employees had voted on creating for it in the lobby was completed, Nami could not stop from grinning.

This was nice. Yes, she definitely made the right choice.

 

* * *

 

**Honshu**

Ayaka was pissed. Fuming, she pressed redial. Nobody hangs up on her. Nobody! Holding the phone to her ear, she hugged her other arm around her waist and tapped her foot impatiently.

As she listened to the line ring, she gazed around nonchalant.

How she despised the country, almost as much as she hated a certain singer. She sneered at the memory. Damn him and damn that meddling mother of his! If the woman weren’t already dead, she’d kill her. In fact, she’d run her down then back up over her just for good measure. Then she’d run her over once more just because she could.

A glint on the hill caught her attention. Curious, she pushed away from the car and lowering the phone, took several steps forward and squinted. What was that?

 

* * *

 

K cursed softly as he and the target locked gazes.  “Sir?  Should I take the shot?”  It was now or never.

 

* * *

 

**NG Executive Offices - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo**

Tohma heard the urgency in K’s voice.

Dropping his hands, he spun the chair around and gazed out the window at the city spread out before him.

He felt for the Usamis. He really did. It was never easy to lose a child, but he was not about to take the chance that Ayaka would get away with what she did.

“Do it.”

 

* * *

 

**Honshu**

“Yes sir.” K could not quite hide the eagerness from his voice.

With his finger hovering over the trigger, he watched the target through the scope as she carefully made her way up the hill towards him. Bringing her into the crosshairs, he took a deep breath, held it and counted to ten. He exhaled slowly. Quietness washed over him. There were no thoughts, no emotions. He had no conscience. He felt no guilt. There was nothing. The world narrowed down to just him and the target. It was time.

He pulled the trigger.

Through the scope, he watched as the target’s head snapped back, her body jerked and tensed before crumbling to the ground.

K smirked.

Rising to his feet, he shouldered his rifle and made his way down the hill. He knelt besides the target and felt for a pulse. There was none.

“Mission completed,” he relayed as he sat back on his heels. “Target destroyed.”

 

* * *

 

**That Evening - Usami Residence - Kyoto**

Sometimes Lieutenant Asaga really hated his job. “Should’ve been a dentist,” he grumbled as he stood before the closed gates of the Usami residence. His father had wanted him to be a dentist. Take over the business after he retired in order to keep it in the family. Right about now, he was really regretting his decision to become a cop. He wondered if it was too late to change careers.

He pushed through the gates, flinching as they squeaked loudly in protest.

Taking a breath, he steeled himself and started up the walk to the front door. With each step he took, the knot of dread in his stomach grew. Was it cowardice to pray that nobody would be at home?

He was climbing the porch stairs when there was a sound of a chain sliding across the door.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Several moments later, the front door opened and a woman appeared. She was pale, had dark circles and bags under her eyes. Her hair was unkempt and was beginning to show signs of gray. A white blouse was tucked haphazardly into a long brown skirt. Both hung loosely around her skinny frame, as if she’d recently lost a tremendous amount of weight and had yet to buy new clothes.

“Mrs. Usami?” he inquired cautiously.

The woman didn’t answer. She just continued watching him with that blank stare.

“Ma’am?” Concern for an already distraught mother welled within him, but he forged ahead. “Ma’am, I‘m Lieu-”

With a whimper, the woman collapsed to the floor at his feet.

“Ma’am!” Lieutenant Asaga rushed to the woman’s side thinking: yes, sometimes he really hated his job.

 

* * *

 

**Night - Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

With his husband at his side, Shuichi strolled across the silent parking lot to their building. There was the distant rumble of traffic and the occasional vehicle that whizzed by on the street. Somewhere, a dog bayed.

Stopping in the middle of the lot, Shuichi dropped his head back and gazed up the modern building they resided in. With a hand on his pregnancy-swollen belly, a nostalgic smile graced his tired face.

It was good to be home.

Though they were gone for only a month, it felt more like ages, which, now that he thought about it, was strange, especially considering that he was gone longer when Bad Luck went on tour a little over a year ago. It hadn’t felt like this then, but that might have something to do with the differing reasons for his absence. You can’t exactly claim that time was flying by because you were having so much fun at a funeral.

Shuichi shook the gloomy thoughts aside and jogged to catch up to Eiri who either hadn’t realized he’d stopped or didn’t care that he had. The latter sounded more plausible.

He smiled at his son who was sound asleep in his daddy’s arms. Little Takanori’s mouth was hanging open and a little wet spot was forming on Eiri’s sleeve. “What about the bags?” he inquired with a soft snicker. He brushed his fingers lightly through little Takanori’s silky black locks.

“I’ll get them in the morning.”

Shuichi nodded around a sudden yawn. Good thinking. He was half-asleep on his feet as it was.

Right here in front of this very building a month ago his world had been turned inside out and flipped upside down. The woman whom had raised him and loved him to the best of her ability had been a victim of a hit and run. He could not classify it as an accident because it had not been accidental. It’d been a deliberate act of violence.

As they passed within meters of the spot where his mother had pushed him out of the path of the car, he kept his gaze averted, but the desire too look was nearly overwhelming.

They hadn’t been able to find a pulse at first, but by the time the EMTs arrived, his mother had one. It’d been faint, but there. The doctors at Seiryu, where they’d taken her, managed to stabilize her long enough for his father and Maiko to arrive from Kyoto. Half an hour later, she flat lined. At least they’d all been able to say good-bye.

 _“I have my people on it, Eiri. We will find her,”_ he’d overheard Tohma telling Eiri at the hospital last month. _“She won‘t be able to get far with all of Japan looking for her. Don’t worry.”_

Tohma had better keep his word because Shuichi hadn’t forgotten _his_ promise. He would hunt the bitch down himself and make her regret the day she ever heard the name Shuichi Shindou.

“How’re my kids?”

Shuichi shook off the murderous thoughts. “Sleeping.” Thankfully. They were pretty active for much of the drive home. “I’m tired and hungry, but glad to be home though. Thanks for asking!”

The sarcasm had Eiri rolling his eyes. “Baka.”

Shuichi stuck out his tongue, which Eiri took quick advantage of. He leaned over and nipped it lightly, causing Shuichi to blush a nice shade of red. Eiri chuckled.

As Eiri’s hand were currently full of sleeping toddler, Shuichi held open the door, making a big sweeping gesture as Eiri stepped into the lobby. Eiri snorted as his overly dramatic behavior. Shuichi followed him inside. They crossed the deserted lobby to the elevator. Shuichi pressed the call button.

A voice called out to them just as a ping sounded and the elevator doors slid open.

Shuichi glanced over his shoulder. A woman who looked vaguely familiar but whose name he could not remember was walking towards them.

“I believe this is yours,” she said handing over a white envelope. “Someone put it in my mailbox by mistake weeks ago. I’ve meaning to give it to you, but with everything that happened…” Her voice trailed off.

Shuichi swallowed passed the lump in his throat and pasted a smile on his face. It wasn’t entirely fake. “Thanks.”

The woman bowed and slid into the elevator just as the doors were closing.

“What is it?” Eiri asked.

“Don’t know,” Shuichi said. He turned the envelope over. Other than his name on the front, there was no other writing on the envelope, not even a return address, stamp or postmark. Whoever it was from must have hand delivered it.

Eiri frowned down at the unobtrusive white envelope.

Deciding to deal with it later, Shuichi shrugged and stuffed it into his back pocket. He pressed the call button and when the elevator arrived, stepped into the car with his husband and son right behind him.

The ride was short and uneventful. They did not meet anybody else either getting on or off. That was not unusual given the late hour.

Digging out his keys, Shuichi unlocked the door to their place. He stepped aside and allowed Eiri to enter the condominium before him. Then he stepped inside and shut and locked the door behind him. He groped the wall for the light switch. A moment later, the front hall was flooded with soft light.

Eiri had already toed off his shoes--how he did this without jostling little Takanori enough to wake him, Shuichi had no idea--and was already making his way through the house to put their son to bed.

Shuichi slid off his own slip-on sneakers and squatted down to pick up both his and Eiri’s shoes in order to place them in the shoe closet. He did not want to hear Eiri bitching later about tripping all over the shoes that had been left out haphazardly. Something in his pocket crinkled as he moved. Standing back up with his shoes in hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope that woman had given him down in the lobby. Clamping it in his teeth, he picked up Eiri’s shoes in his other hand and used his foot to slid open the closet. He set the shoes in their appropriate places and stepped out. With the envelope in hand, he was about to shut the closet door when footsteps sounded behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at his husband.

“Here.”

Shuichi took his son’s shoes and set them besides his own.

“Want some tea or something?” Eiri asked as he went into the kitchen.

As his stomach has felt like it was in the middle of imploding and has for sometime now, Shuichi was not surprised when his stomach gave a loud growl.

Eiri chuckled. “Guess so. What you in the mood for?” He peered into the fridge. There wasn’t much to choose from given they’d been gone for a month. They would have to go shopping in the morning.

Shuichi shrugged as he pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down. “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.”

As banging and clanking emanated from the kitchen, Shuichi turned his attention to the envelope. Curious, he tore it open and pulled out what at first he thought was a piece of paper, but on closer inspection, it turned out to be a torn section of a white placemat. It actually looked like the ones from the restaurant down the street. Little Takanori loved them and so did he and Eiri--Eiri because he said it kept mealtimes quiet and Shuichi because some of his best songs were scribbled on the backs of them.

Shuichi carefully unfolded the placemat. There was writing on it. It looked like a letter of some sort. He flipped the makeshift paper over, looking for a signature. When he found it, his vision grew misty with the blurred sting of tears. His throat ached. It was from his mother. He slapped a trembling hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs.

How…? When had she…?

Clearing his throat, he dropped his hand and turned the letter over. Pushing back his tears, he started to read his mother’s last words. He hadn’t even read passed the first line when a wave of sorrow, guilt and even contentedness washed over him.

 

* * *

 

With two bowls of ramen, which was the one thing edible in the house, Eiri made his way to the dining room.  He frowned as he drew closer.  The sound of stifled sobs grew louder.  “Baby?” he called softly.  Setting the bowls down on the table, he turned towards Shuichi.

Shuichi turned a tearstained face towards him. He held out the letter. “From Mom,” he said with a tiny smile.

“What?” Gobsmacked, Eiri snatched it. From his mother-in-law? But how was that possible? Out of all of the possibilities of what the envelope could have contained, a handwritten note from Shuichi’s mother had not been among them. She obviously wrote it before she died, but when? How? Why had she even been here? There were so many unanswered questions floating around his head.

He scanned the letter.

 _“Shuichi,”_ it began, _“Who knew writing a simple letter would be so difficult? But I guess it’s the contents of the letter and not the letter itself that makes this seem like an impossible mission. There’s a part of me that’s saying to just give it up and go back home. What’s the point? Not like you’ll actually read this once you realize who it’s from. I wouldn’t blame you. I’d be more surprised if you did._

_“I’ve lost count of how many times I started to write to you over the years but gave up because even though there’s so much I want to say, so much that needs to be said, I can’t find the words. How I envy Mr. Yuki’s skill and talent right now. He makes this look so easy!_

_“As I write this, I’m in Akamatsu. As I used all the paper I had on me on the numerous failed drafts I’ve attempted in the last hour or so that I’ve been here, I’ve taken to using one of their placemats. I can see your place from my chair. They say you eat here all the time. I’m wondering if there’s even the slightest possibility of you stopping by while I’m here._

_“Or what if you pass by on your way home?_

_“I wish I could say I’d call out to you, but I’m nothing but a coward. I’m actually relieved that you weren’t home when I stopped by. This way, I can say what I want to say, what I need to say, without fear of having the door slammed in my face before I can say my piece or me losing my courage._

_“I didn’t set out this morning to come see you to beg for your forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it. I just wanted to say that I love you and that I’m proud of you. I was honored to be your mother. I just wish I had been a better one._

_“All I can do is apologize and hope that some day, you’ll be able to forgive me enough for us to at least be cordial to one another.”_

It wasn’t until a gentle finger brushed at his face did Eiri realize that he’d been crying. He scrubbed his wet face with his free hand just as the house phone started ringing. Handing Shuichi back his letter, he went to answer the phone.

Shuichi may not have said anything, but Eiri knew that his husband was feeling guilty over not having at least tried to make amends with his mother before her death. That her life had been cut short by a psychotic madwoman and any number of chances he would have had to make amends had been forcibly taken away from both mother and son did nothing to alleviate the guilt.

At least now, with this letter, Shuichi can finally start to heal.

With tears in his eyes, Shuichi reread the letter again and again. Each time, he lovingly ran a finger over the final two lines in the letter.

“I love you. Always.

“Mom.”

His stomach gave a particularly loud growl. “Okay. Okay,” he laughed. He sniffed and wiped at his wet face. Folding the letter, he held it to his heart and retook his seat at the table. Taking one of the still steaming bowls--the one with the most ramen--and grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the container in the middle of the table. Prying them apart, he muttered, “Itadakimasu,” before he dug into the noodles ravenously, still clutching his mother’s letter.

 

* * *

 

“…Are you sure?” Eiri spoke softly into the phone. He paced to the archway that separated the kitchen from the dining room and glanced at his husband who was sitting with his feet folded under him. A pair of pale wood chopsticks was clutched in one hand against the side of the black lacquered bowl that he was now sipping the broth out of. The other hand had a death grip on the letter. He had a feeling Shuichi was not going to let the letter out of his sight anytime soon.

“Quite.”

Relief flooded through Eiri, making his knees weak. He sagged back against the wall. If he were to be honest, there was part of him that was angry that he hadn’t been able to get a crack at Ayaka Usami. “How-?”

“Self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.”

Eiri cocked an eyebrow. “And the police are going to buy that?” he asked his brother-in-law skeptically. He knew he sure didn’t.

“Of course.”

Eiri snorted. “You do realize that most people who shoot themselves put the gun in their mouth.”

“Yes, well, Ms. Usami was not most people, Eiri.”

You can say that again.

As long as she was not going to pull an “in actuality, who you killed was my evil twin sister and now I‘m going to take my revenge because you took my beloved sister away from me despite the fact that she was a psychotic bitch and deserved what she got” like this was some second rate soap opera or a “back from the grave” stunt like from some crap horror sequel that never should have been made, then what did it matter either way? Dead was dead. The details mattered little.

“Thanks.” There was no way he would ever be able to properly thank his brother-in-law for everything he did for his family.

“My pleasure, Eiri.”

 

* * *

 

Shuichi was eying his husband’s rapidly cooling bowl of ramen--he was still starving--when a knock sounded at the door.

“Shu?” Eiri called from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Shuichi called back. He pushed the chair back and jumped to his feet. Humming Fefe Dobson, he made his way to the front door.

“Check to see who it is,” he heard Eiri call after him.

Shuichi rolled his eyes.

“Saw that.”

Huffing a laugh, Shuichi decided to do as Eiri “suggested”.

Seeing as whoever constructed the peephole had a misguided notion that every single person on the planet was over six feet tall, he had to stand up on his tiptoes to use said peephole in order to see who was at the door this late in the evening. He was taken back by who he saw on the other side of the door. Sliding back the chain and turning the deadbolt, Shuichi threw open the door. “Ryu.”

“Hey,” Ryuichi greeted with a halfhearted smile.

Shuichi stepped aside and waved the older man inside. “What’re you doing here? Did something happen?” They just saw one another not to long ago in Kyoto. In fact, Ryuichi was still there when he and Eiri left.

Ryuichi started to shake his head then rethought his answer and nodded. “Actually yes,” he corrected as he stepped into the condominium and took off his shoes.

Worry enveloped Shuichi as he shut and locked the door behind the older man.

Ryuichi turned around to face him. “We need to talk.”

“What about?” Shuichi asked as he led Ryuichi into the living room.

“Where’s little Takanori?”

“Bed.”

Ryuichi nodded. Good.

He caught sight of Eiri leaning against the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. The man inclined his head in greeting, but otherwise said nothing.

Ryuichi patted his suit jacket to make sure the DVD was still in the inner pocket. It was. While he’d been in Kyoto for his mother’s funeral, he’d gone to a chain drugstore near his parents’ house and had the old VHS tape with that short snippet of an hours old Shuichi converted to DVD, including Yuki‘s message for their son at the end. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been all that expensive. Even if it had, it wouldn’t have fazed him.

Ironically, it’d been the death of his mother and not Eiri’s threats that had pushed Ryuichi into finally making up his mind to tell his son the truth. Life was too short. You never knew what tomorrow would bring. He already had so many regrets and he did not want to add to them.

It was time to come clean.

“This…It-it’s…It’s something I should have, something I should have told you a long time ago.” Ryuichi could not seem to get his tongue and brain to work properly.

Shuichi froze as he was lowering himself down into one of the armchairs.

His mind flashed to the papers he’d discovered years ago in the back of his brother’s closet.

It all started when he and Morihiro Shindou got into a fight when he asked him to buy him a keyboard. He’d been playing the piano since before he could walk thanks to Tohma and Noriko and much to the chagrin of Morihiro. For his seventh birthday, Tohma had given him his old keyboard, but two years later, it broke and he’d wanted a new one. Morihiro told him that he was finished playing pretend.

 _“It’s time to grow up and think about the future. Music isn’t going to pay the bills and put food on the table,”_ was what he told him.

In protest, Shuichi ended up storming out of the house. Nobody had come looking for him.

He’d ended up at Ryuichi’s place.

Since Ryuichi had been out on tour with the rest of Nittle Grasper and Tatsuha had gone with him, he’d had the place to himself. Ryuichi had given him carte blanch to do as he pleased, as long as he didn’t burn the place down and cleaned up after himself that is. It was a teenager’s dream come true. Until five hours later when that dream turned into a nightmare.

He’d been absolutely bored out of his mind and went to see what he could “borrow” from his brother. Buried at the back of Ryuichi’s closet, he’d found an old shoebox. He’d ignored that little voice that was telling him to leave it alone and pulled it out. Once he’d lifted the lid, he’d wished he’d listened to that little voice because that was when he discovered his big brother’s secret.

Shuichi lowered himself down in the armchair slowly.

His relationship with Ryuichi changed dramatically after that.

At first, Shuichi hadn’t believed any of it, but it quickly became obvious that whether he believed it or not, the truth was glaring him in the face. Suddenly everything made sense. But he hadn’t welcomed the discovery. Nobody in his position would. His whole life had been nothing but a lie. He grew despondent and angry and avoided Ryuichi as much as he could after that. He’d wanted nothing further to do with him. This hurt Ryuichi greatly. It broke Ryuichi’s heart, thinking it was because he was away so much that Shuichi had grown to despise him. Shuichi had been well aware of how his change in attitude had affected his “big brother”, but at the time, he hadn’t cared. He’d felt that Ryuichi deserved it.

Perched on the edge of the sofa, Ryuichi studied his hands clasped between his knees. His heart was hammering and his pulse was racing. He felt sick to his stomach. “Shu….Shuichi, I-”

“I know,” Shuichi interrupted.

Frowning, Eiri dropped his arms and pushed away from the wall. He…knew?

Ryuichi’s head snapped up and around. “What?”

Shuichi smiled at the older singer. “I know,” he repeated. “And…it’s okay.” He’d made peace with the knowledge that he was not Shuichi Shindou but was in fact Shuichi Sakuma. That his biological parents were not Mai and Morihiro Shindou, but were Ryuichi Sakuma and Yuki Kitazawa. Ironically, it was when he discovered he was pregnant with little Takanori that everything changed. Suddenly, he understood.

“Shu?”

That wasn’t to say that he’d be calling Ryuichi “father” or “dad” or anything like that anytime soon. If ever.

There were still some aspects of this whole Jerry Springer ensemble that needed to be clarified though. “Why don’t you just start from the beginning and we can go from there?”

With tears in his eyes, Ryuichi glanced at his son to his son-in-law who had come to stand behind his husband.

Eiri gave Ryuichi a nod.

Ryuichi took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “It all started in New York City almost twenty years ago…”

 

* * *

 

**Mataguchi Residence - Avan Minami-Aoyama Manor - Tokyo**

“We have late breaking news this evening out of Honshu,” reported a young blond woman. “Earlier this afternoon, police found the body of nineteen year old Ayaka Usami of Kyoto dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Ms. Usami had been wanted for questioning in regards to the hit and run accident that killed the mother to singers Ryuichi Sakuma and Shuichi Shindou last month in Chiyoda. Evidence gathered at the scene is leading investigators to believe that she may have been behind the wheel of the car when it struck and killed the forty-nine year old homemaker. A spokesperson for the singers had no comment for us this evening other than to say that Sakuma and Shindou will be releasing a statement in the morning.”

The wine glass halted its upward movement to Nami’s mouth.

This…This wasn’t…Oh God!

As tears filled her eyes and her throat began to ache, the wine glass slipped from her trembling fingers and shattered on the wooden floors. The red liquid coated everything in its path. She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed quietly for her friend.

 

* * *

 

**Ryugan Temple - Usami Residence - Kyoto**

Masahiro could be found in the same place every day, kneeling on the hard tatami floor of his temple before the altar praying. The burning incense mingling with the floral scent of the flowers soothed his fears, but today was different. Their once calming effect churned his stomach. They could do nothing to alleviate the emptiness within him. And the tears. He could not stop them from falling.

It was his fault.

His fault.

All his fault.

His heart wrenching sobs filled the silence of the temple.

His fault.

All his fault.

Sorrow like he never felt before was attempting to swallow him whole. He gladly welcomed it with open arms, embraced it like an old friend. It was slowly taking over his heart and soul, his thoughts and his actions.

All he wanted was to crawl into bed and never crawl back out, to fall into the blissful peace of sleep and never waken.

Why? God, please, tell me why? Why?

Earlier this afternoon, his whole world had crumbled and died.

Like after the Apocalypse, nothing was ever going to be the same again. Never ever again. He would never hear his daughter’s infectious laughter or see her beautiful smile. She would never come into the temple and change out the flowers with fresh ones, never see how proud she was of her garden. She would never sneak up behind him and stick the incense she bought under his nose, making him choke on their pungent scent. He would never come home again to find her sprawled out somewhere in the house or even in the yard with her nose in the book. He would never eat her wonderfully prepared meals--she could have been a chef. He would never…She would never…

Why would God take his only reason for living away from him? Why?

Masahiro crumbled, just as his world had, onto the tatami floor, sobbing for what had been and what would never be again.

 

* * *

 

Oharu, Masahiro’s wife and the mother to his only child sat in the recliner in the darkened living room.  None of the lights were on.  All the shades and curtains in the house had been shut.  Slowly, she rocked--back and forth, over and over again--as she stared blankly at the wall.

 

* * *

**III**

* * *

**  
**   


**Eighteen Weeks Later - Sakuma-Uesugi Residence - Koishikawa Park Tower - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan**

At only thirty-two weeks into his pregnancy, Shuichi went into labor. He’d finally fallen asleep after tossing and turning and bitching and moaning--and just plain driving Eiri insane--for hours about how uncomfortable he was when he was jolted back into consciousness.

It was time.

As was procedure for male neutrals, instead of having a natural birth, which was rarely done, he underwent a cesarean. At half past eleven at night on November 15, Kita Yoshihara Uesugi came into the world. A minute later, his twin sister Kaya Tsukiko Uesugi followed.

Shuichi and Eiri considered themselves extremely lucky. At eight weeks premature, their twins were a little underweight, weighing four pounds even, but were otherwise healthy. A woman hours before had given birth to a baby girl, her first child, who was so premature that the newborn weighed only a pound. The outlook did not look good for her.

The Uesugi twins spent their first week of life in NICU putting on some weight--Kita gained two pounds and his sister one--under the careful, watchful eye of the staff. When their doctor was satisfied, they were released into the waiting arms of their eager family.

Home for a week and the twins have had visits from Grandpa Ryu and Uncle Tatsuha, Uncle Tohma and Aunt Mika, Aunt Noriko, Uncle Kizou and now from Aunt Maiko.

“Here you go.”

Maiko took the proffered brown lacquered teacup. “Thanks.”

“You just missed Sakuma and the others,” Eiri said as he took a seat in the armchair with his own cup of tea.

“Hm.” Maiko took a sip of her tea. She relished the feel of the warm liquid sliding down her throat. “Figured. I’m staying with him for the next couple of weeks.”

“Does he know?”

“Nope.”

Eiri laughed full out. “Runaway from home or something?” he teased.

“Something like that,” Maiko laughed.

She’d taken the train from Kyoto this morning. Under normal circumstances, I.e. if she wasn’t preggers, she could have easily walked the distance from the train station to Ryuichi’s seeing it was less than a mile away, but since it was wasn’t “normal circumstances”, she called a taxi. Unfortunately, when she arrived at her brother‘s place, he wasn’t home, so instead of waiting around who knows how long, she hoped on a bus and here she was. Maybe she should have called Ryuichi before she left that morning.

Oh, well.

“Actually, my father left this morning on a business trip. I could’ve gone with him, but because it’s so close to my due date, I told him I’d just come stay with Ryu.” She shrugged.

Eiri nodded. “Seems pretty sudden.”

“Yeah,” Maiko agreed. “Actually, someone else was supposed to go but something happened and he couldn’t go so they sent my father who was supposed to be on leave what with my due date coming and everything.” She shrugged again as she took another sip of her tea.

“What about that…” Eiri ransacked his mind for the name of the guy who’d been stupid enough to fuck and dump the baby sister of Ryuichi Sakuma--the dude was lucky Tohma Seguchi hadn’t been sicced on him.

“Horigami?”

Was that his name? “Yeah him.”

Maiko shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares?”

Eiri smirked.

“The guy’s a complete douche bag.”

Eiri could not agree more.

“But,” Maiko sighed. “He is the father of my child. Unfortunately,” she muttered. “So when I go into labor he’ll be contacted.” Eventually, she added.

“So you’re giving him visitation rights?”

“I suppose, but that’s all.”

It was more than he deserved, Eiri though.

Maiko’s face fell. She stared down at the dark liquid in her cup that was sandwiched between her hands. “How are they? Shu and Ryu I mean?”

“Good,” Eiri replied with a gentle smile and without any hesitation.

Maiko lifted her head.

“Surprisingly,” Eiri continued. Or maybe not so much seeing Shuichi had known the truth for eight years. Shuichi had had time to vent his anger and frustration at being lied to and manipulated. In that time, Shuichi had grown up, gotten over his childish hurts, and realized that the world was not black and white. There were worlds of gray. He’d grown to understand why his birth parents had done what they did. “He isn’t going to be calling Sakuma ‘Father’ anytime soon, but…” Eiri heaved a light sigh. “They’re closer then they’ve been in all the time I’ve known them.”

“Think they’ll come out?”

Eiri had to shrug. Because both Shuichi and Ryuichi were constantly in the public eye--if they fart it makes the front page of some tabloid--it would eventually come out. Somehow, someway it would. That was a guarantee. For people like them, nothing stayed secret for very long, especially when you had someone like Perez Hilton who stuck his overtly large ass into other peoples business. “When they’re ready maybe.”

Dipping her head, Maiko shrugged, lost in the almost invisible ripples on the surface of her tea. “It wasn’t much of a surprise actually when I heard. I mean, think about it, about Shu and Ryu’s history. Ryu has always been more of a father to Shu than Father has. When I was little, I remember thinking that Ryu was Shu’s father because he treated him like his son and not as his little brother. My parents said he wasn’t though when I asked. Guess I was right,” she laughed. “I was happy when I heard that Ryu and Tatsuha had adopted him--hurt and angry and miserable for a time when I learned he’d left without saying goodbye or anything, but happy.” She raised her head and gazed across the coffee table at Eiri. “Then there’s you. He changed after he met you,” she said. “He was happy. He smiled more.” Maiko smiled. “Thank you, Eiri.”

His face burning in embarrassment, Eiri did the only thing he could: he inclined his head.

A look of confusion passed over her face. “I heard something about them going to Yowa Hospital or something?”

“Ah yes. They were talking about it the other day.”

“What’s there?”

“Yuki.”

“You mean-”

“Shu’s birth mother.”

“Are you going to let him go?”

Eiri heaved a sigh. “Not sure. If he wants to go, then nothing I say or do will stop him. He definitely has the right to visit him, get to know him, but…I don’t know. If he wants to I’ll support him.”

“If he doesn’t?”

“I’ll support him.”

Maiko nodded. “Speaking of which, where’re my nephews and my niece?”

“Sleeping.” Thank God.

Maiko raised an eyebrow. “All of them?”

Eiri nodded. “Every single one.”

“Must be nice to finally have some peace and quiet.”

“You have no idea.”

Maiko laughed.

 

* * *

 

Shuichi was not sure what had caused him to wake.

By the silence that greeted him as he stirred, it appeared as if the children were still asleep. Thank Buddha for small favors. If any of his children were awake, it wouldn’t be a secret, at least not for very long. Little Takanori was a little Tasmanian devil who left terror and destruction in his wake. Unfortunately, he was a little too much like his mama: an excitable ball of energy who just could not sit still if his life depended on it. Doing so would undoubtedly put him into a coma. As rambunctious as his hyperactive son was, the twins appeared to be sound sleepers just like Eiri. No matter how loud little Takanori was on his makeshift drums, Kita and Kaya slept on. But once the twins were wake, all hell broke loose.

 _“They definitely take after their Mother,”_ Eiri had noted more than once.

Oh, boy did they. He had a feeling that the family business would live on.

Thankfully, though, with all three of his children asleep, he could get some rest as well.

While their children were asleep, Eiri was up though. He could hear his muffled voice coming from the living room. It wasn’t loud enough to have woken him though.

“Wonder who he’s talking to?” Shuichi mumbled around a yawn as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He flipped onto his back and stretched, wincing as doing so pulled at the scar on his belly. “Probably Tohma,” he answered himself. They were supposed to have dinner with the Seguchis later that night. He was hoping to learn the gender of their baby. Mika had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon and was hoping for a girl.

 _“Men are idiots,”_ was what she said when she’d come to visit him in the hospital.

 _“Excluding me, right Dear?”_ Tohma had hoped.

 _“Including you,”_ Mika had snapped right back.

Shuichi snickered at the memory.

Sighing contently, if not a little sleepily, Shuichi pushed the blankets back and sat up. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat there, gripping the edge of the mattress and watching his feet swinging inches above the floor. He turned his head and caught sight of the DVD sitting on top of the dresser.

Standing up, he went to the dresser and picked up the CD case. He stared down at the reflective surface of the gold disk within. “Shuichi: One Day Old” was printed in black marker on the disk. Opening the case, he carefully lifted out the DVD and put it into the DVD player that was built into the side of their flat screen television mounted on the wall.

Rounding the bed to Eiri’s side, he grabbed the remote from the nightstand and pushed play, remembering afterwards to actually turn on the television.

With the remote cradled in his lap, Shuichi perched on the bed with a leg tucked underneath him.

The screen flickered and an image of a man with familiar violet eyes and black hair that tickled the collar of his hospital gown sitting on a hospital bed appeared.

Yuki Kitazawa. His mother.

Except for the hair and eyes, they looked nothing alike.

“Thank God,” he’d heard Ryuichi mumble to that.

“Hello my son,” Yuki was saying to the camera.

Shuichi leaned his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands under his chin, watched the screen intently.

“Knowing the history between me and your daddy, I doubt you know who I am.” Yuki took a deep breath. “I am Yuki Kitazawa. Your mother.”

When Shuichi discovered his birth certificate all those years ago buried in the back of Ryuichi‘s closet, it hadn’t entered his mind that his birth mother was anything other than a woman. As a neutral himself, he should have considered the possibility. The name Yuki was a gender-neutral name after all. To say it had been a shock to learn that Yuki Kitazawa was not a woman but was in fact a neutral would be an understatement. He was still trying to wrap his mind around it. What was so shocking about it, he could not say. It just was. At least he and Eiri had something in common now other than their children.

“I named you Shuichi Karishma Sakuma.”

It was still odd to hear his real name. Of course, he planned to keep the name Shuichi Shindou as his stage name, but all his records had already been changed to reflect the name he had been given at birth, the name he had retaken. When he’d told Ryuichi, the older man had burst into tears.

“Shuichi after your daddy.”

Shuichi smiled. Ryuichi’s middle name was Shu.

“Karishma after my mother.”

Shuichi leaned closer.

“Ryu insisted his son have his last name though.” Yuki rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face and the expression he wore when he spoke about Ryuichi contradicted the eye movement. “I agreed. After all, it was the least I could do to…make up for what I did.” The last was spoken in such a soft tone that Shuichi had a hard time hearing what was said.

Shuichi dipped his head and plucked the blanket. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forgive Yuki for everything he did.

From what Ryuichi told him, it had seemed as if Yuki had been obsessed with Ryuichi. Obsession was not love. It wasn’t even about lust. It was about possessing--having ownership over a person and you can’t own a person. They weren’t a piece of luggage you could buy at the department store. They were living breathing human beings with thoughts, feelings and emotions of their own.

“If you’re loved, you’re loved. If you’re not, you’re not.” He’d read that line in a yaoi manga years ago. It was something that his birth mother had apparently never been able to grasp.

But watching Yuki’s face as he spoke about Ryuichi--he wasn’t so sure if it was as clear-cut as that. Maybe, just maybe, Yuki really had been in love with Ryuichi. Maybe it hadn’t been purely obsession. It could be that Ryuichi had been Yuki’s first real love or maybe Yuki had never been in love with a man before and hadn’t known how to handle it or the rejection that followed their one night together. It was clear that Yuki had wanted more than that one night and had refused to give up. Ryuichi on the other hand, couldn’t give Yuki more than that even if he’d wanted to because he’d been under the thumb of the record company at the time. Under the old owners, L8r Records had been a dictatorship. The artists signed onto the label had no choice but to do as they were told. Otherwise, they would have been out of a job. It didn’t help that Yuki and Ryuichi had never really talked. That couldn’t have helped any either.

That was definitely one of the topics he planned to bring up when he and Ryuichi went to visit him next month.

“As you can probably tell, my mother wasn’t Japanese, though she was Asian. Indian in fact. And I mean Indian as in from India.”

Shuichi hadn’t understood that significance until Ryuichi told him that Yuki was American and when Americans hear “Indian”, they usually think of Native Americans.

“My father…My father was Japanese-American and a tyrannical man in both the business world as well as in…as well as at home.”

Shuichi watched the expressions on his birth mother’s face change. It was a dramatic transformation. From sweet to bitter.

Yuki had his hands clenched so tightly that it was difficult to distinguish between his arm and the admission bracelet he wore. It was a safe bet that Yuki did not like his father very much.

“He was an--alcoholic.” Yuki was not looking into the camera anymore, but was gazing somewhere off screen. “There’s not much to say about the man. He was as asshole who suffocated in his own vomit several years before I met your daddy,” he explained. His voice was hard.

Shuichi snorted. Good riddance. That was one grandfather he could do without.

“But my mother was a good woman. I loved her so much!”

Shuichi felt tears prickling his own eyes as he watched his birth mother break down.

“But she passed away a couple of months ago,” Yuki sobbed.

Shuichi sniffed.

“That’s why I decided to give you her name…” Yuki cleared his throat and tried to push back his tears. It wasn’t working. He stared into the camera once more. Shuichi saw that his face was wet and his jaw was trembling. “I want you know that I love you so very much Shuichi.” A stray tear trickled down his cheek. “You…you take care of your daddy, alright?” His voice was tight.

With tears spilling down his own face, Shuichi found himself nodding.

Yuki looked at someone behind the camera and nodded. Just before the image blinked off, Yuki turned towards the camera and blew a kiss.

His hands trembling, Shuichi fumbled for the remote and pressed stop just as a knock sounded at the front door.

 

* * *

 

Chuckling, Eiri excused himself and carefully picked his way through the condominium to the foyer.

It was inevitable when one had children. No matter how much of a perfectionist you were, and he was one to the nth degree if there ever was one, there was a fairly good chance that when you married and had a family, your perfectionist ideals were tossed out the window.

His domicile, whether it was his room back at his parents’ house or any number of apartments he had before he met Shuichi or even his current office, which was the only space in the entire condominium that he could truly call his, he liked everything to be in order at all times. All his DVDs, CDs, books, which included fiction, non-fiction, as well as reference material such as dictionaries and thesauruses, everything had its place and why not? Made it easier to find something you were looking for. Made the house look neat and ordered and as if you actually cared about your possessions. It also kept him from tripping over everything and making a complete and utter fool of himself in front of his thirty-eight week pregnant sister-in-law (or was that aunt-in-law?) as he was currently doing.

His cousin who worked full time in maintenance at some nursing facility was married to a woman who worked full time as a nurse. They had two children. Every time he stopped over, their house was always a complete disaster area. Should be condemned. Dishes piled a mile high in the sink and spewing along the counters and table. Dirty clothes everywhere. Dirty used diapers hiding underneath. Miscellaneous other junk draped here, there and everywhere.

Eiri had grown up in a house that had always been spotless, and his father had been a single father raising three children, so he knew it could be done. It was just a matter of getting up off your fat lazy ass. Then little Takanori had been born. Suddenly, he understood why some houses looked as if the toy store had vomited all over the floor.

No matter how many times he told his son, and he’d told him enough times God knows, there was always something laying about either gathering dust or laying in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. Telling him to put it away because if Daddy does it, it gets put in the trash just did not seem to work. It had when he was his son’s age.

Once again, several of the pots and pans had been dragged out of the kitchen, from a childproof cabinet no less--he blamed Shuichi for that. A couple of the wooden spoons that had been used as drumsticks lay discarded halfway across the living room. He had a feeling he would be purchasing his son a set of drums all too soon.

“Damn,” he muttered.

He had a headache already.

Eiri tripped over one of little Takanori’s sneakers that was sitting outside the door of the water closet that was off the foyer--guess his son had been in too much of a hurry to take his shoes off before coming into the house when Kizou brought him home earlier.

Another knock sounded on the door, louder this time.

Taking his own advice, Eiri checked the peephole.

He didn’t recognize the nervous looking man on the other side. It didn’t look like any of their neighbors, not that he could recognize them all on sight. That was one of Shuichi’s talents.

The man had a sprinkling of gray in his short-cropped black hair. There were lines around his dark brown, nearly black, eyes. He was about the same height as Nakano and had the beginnings of a beer belly, but the modest gray suit hid it well.

“Who is it?” Maiko called out.

“Not sure,” he called back. With a frown, Eiri turned the deadbolt, hearing the tumblers shift, and threw open the door. “May I help you?”

Clearing his throat, the man adjusted his red tie. “Yes, uhm, I’m-”

“Dad?”

Morihiro tensed and looked over Eiri’s shoulder.

Shifting aside, Eiri turned around and watched as his husband stepped into the dining room.

The white maternity shirt Shuichi had tossed on over his black stretch pants, which he referred to as his “butter pants” because they were as smooth as butter, did nothing to hide the weight his husband still had to lose after giving birth to twins just two short weeks ago. There was a crease along his left cheek. His short cropped black hair was sticking on end and his violet eyes were red rimmed and puffy as if he’d been crying.

He frowned at that.

“Shu?”

The sound of her brother’s voice--or was that nephew now?--startled Maiko. She hadn’t even realized that Shuichi had woken up. Her gaze went from him to the foyer. From her position on the sofa, she could not see the front door, but Shuichi could and from the shell-shocked expression on his face, it was evident that whoever it was was not someone he had ever expected to see. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

She staggered to her feet with some difficulty and crossed the room to stand besides him. She gasped as she turned and saw the man standing in the doorway. Her hands flew to her mouth. Tears prickled her eyes.

Eiri glanced at Maiko with a cocked eyebrow. Was this really Mr. Shindou? The tears flowing down her flushed cheeks were the only validation he needed.

This was the man that had adopted Shuichi in order to keep his grandson from being lost within the system.

It was only then that this was the first time seeing Mr. Shindou. He hadn’t really paid attention at Mrs. Shindou’s funeral. He’d been too concerned with his pregnant husband at the time to care.

To Shuichi, it didn’t even register that not only had Maiko stopped over a visit, even though her due was rapidly approaching, but that his husband was in the room and had spoken to him. “Dad? What’re…?”

Mr. Morihiro Shindou stepped forward and smiled. “Hello--Son.”

A stray tear rolled down Shuichi’s cheek. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob.

Never…He’d never believed he’d ever see this man again. Not after he’d been bodily thrown out of the house, quite literally, and at two months pregnant no less and especially not after being completely ignored at his mother’s funeral.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he was crossing towards his father, his steps going faster and faster until he was running. There was a little pain from where he’d been stitched up after the C-section, but he ignored it.

He flung himself into his father’s waiting arms with a sob.

He wasn’t sure if they could ever have the type of relationship that he knew other sons had with their fathers, but to have a relationship of any kind with him was more than he could have ever hoped.

Eiri stepped forward and laid a hand on Shuichi’s shoulder. “Shu.” They were in the middle of the hallway.

Shuichi seemed to realize that for he pulled back with an, “Oh,” sniffing and wiping at his snot and tear drenched face. There was a huge toothy grin on his face. His eyes were bright and shinny. He looked happy, genuinely happy for only the second time in a very long time. “C’mon! I’ll show you the twins! They are soooo cute,” Shuichi gushed as he pulled his father behind him through the house to the nursery, which was currently the extra bedroom besides the master suite. “Kita and Kaya look nothing like Eiri.” Shuichi glanced over his shoulder at Eiri and stuck out his tongue.

Eiri rolled his eyes. He shut and locked the door and chuckled lightly as he heard Shuichi babble nonstop at his father.

It was good to have the Shuichi he’d fallen in love with so many years ago back.

 

* * *

 

It was an hour later when Shuichi, Eiri, Maiko and Morihiro Shindou were lounging in the living room sipping tea and watching little Takanori fawning over his new baby brother and sister, who were spitting images of Shuichi except for the wisps of blond hair, when Maiko sat up with a gasp. Her tanned complexion had paled. Trembling hands flew to her pregnancy-swollen belly. All eyes were on the suddenly scared sixteen year old.

Shuichi knew at once. He set his teacup down on the side table and reached for the phone.

“Maiko honey what’s wrong?” Morihiro asked his daughter.

“I think…I think it’s…time.”

It took a full five seconds before her words sunk in. By then, Eiri and Morihiro were hysterical with uncertainty even though Eiri had just gone through something similar two weeks ago, Shuichi had calmly put in a call to his sister’s doctor and was even then calling Ryuichi, knowing Ryuichi would make sure to call everyone else that needed to be informed, Maiko was breathing around a contraction and little Takanori, Kita and Kaya were watching the adults with what could only be described as a “what the fuck” expression on their faces.

His calls complete, Shuichi shook his head and sighed in disgust at the disordered chaos.

“Men,” he breathed.

Quickly taking charge of the situation, he calmly restored order.

Fifteen minutes later, they were stepping into the elevator when little Takanori announced, “Aunt Maiko peed.”

All eyes once again swept to the sixteen year old. “My water broke,” she said in a calm voice, not sounding the least bit terrified even though she had never been so scared in her entire life.

Seven hours later and with her entire family by her side, including the man that had gotten her pregnant in the first place, Maiko Shindou gave birth to a healthy seven pound five ounce baby boy that she named Susumu Takashi Shindou.

Snuggling against his husband’s side, Ryuichi gazed wistfully down at his little nephew. It was too soon to say who the newborn took after in the looks department, but he was leaning towards Maiko.

He still had not forgiven this Horigami character for what he did to his baby sister even though Maiko seemed to have, or at least, she’d forgiven him enough to allow him access to his son.  It had taken Ryuichi nearly twenty years to do that.  Guess that saying about women being stronger was true.  She may have forgiven Horigami--or whatever his name was--but he sure as hell hadn’t.  He was going to be keeping a very close eye on this guy for the foreseeable future, especially since he was going to be around his nephew.

“I feel kinda left out,” Tatsuha said.

“What? How?” Ryuichi asked with a laugh.

“Well.” Tatsuha scratched the back of his head. “Shu and Bro just had twins. Maiko just had a baby. Mika’s pregnant. Noriko just learned she’s pregnant again…”

Ryuichi raised an eyebrow. “What? You want a baby?” he teased with a laugh.

“Yeah.”

Ryuichi’s laughter choked to a halt. “You are not serious.”

But Tatsuha was. He had never been more so in his entire life.

“You want a baby.”

“Yeah.”

Ryuichi gave a resigned sigh. Heaven help them both.

But as he watched his sister with her son, Eiri holding little Takanori as the toddler stood on the edge of the bed gazing down at his cousin, Mika absently rubbing her expanding belly, Tohma holding Kita and cooing to the two week old and Noriko holding Kaya and doing the same, the idea of having another child took hold in his mind. Giving Shuichi a sibling might not be so bad.

He caught his father’s eye and smiled. The older man smiled back.

And he just knew that this time, things were going to be different.

 

**…The End**


End file.
